April 2000

Life is strange.

There are ups and downs, and you know you're in trouble when the downs are more abundant than the ups. But things get better. I hope.

I recently read the writings of a troubled youth, a gay teen, and saw a reflection of myself. The young man, who has since committed suicide, had a family who wouldn't accept him for what-for WHO he was. His own father never even went to his funeral.

This young man, let's call him Chris, was a good student. He was also a great humanitarian. Like me, he had done a lot of charity work, simply for the love of helping others (not for how it would look on a resume.) He tried hard and made the grades to prove it. One day, he did the thing I've always feared having to do - He told his parents he was gay.

They exploded, to say the least. They didn't kick him out, but they tried counseling, and so forth, to aid his 'problem.' They also never looked at him the same again, and that pierced through him like a sword.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. The counseling, the way he was treated by his family, everything just seemed to be too much. He took his own life.

He went through so much pain and yet his father had the gall to not even recognize that. To him his son was a deviant.

Normally, I'd say something exhibiting hope. I'd ask for all of us to band together and fix the wounds we've created by not accepting our own.

Right now, I'm too disillusioned to do either.

The Wanderer


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