He could have cured cancer. He could have saved the economy from future crashes. He could have saved someone’s life; invented the next big thing; inspired millions with his art. He could have been a father to an adopted child; raised someone who wouldn’t have had parents otherwise. He could have written books; directed movies; started a media revolution for acceptance. He could have changed the world.


Instead, he was oppressed. He was bullied. He was picked on. He was called names; scolded; physically abused. He was told it was a choice; that being gay was a sin. He was shamed; excluded; cut off. He was changed by the world.


He couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand the pain. He couldn’t stand the names; the guilt; the hatred of others. He couldn’t stand the prejudice; the stereotypes; the bigotry. He couldn’t stand the world.


So he died. He died with the illusion that he was alone. He died wondering if anyone understood his hurt. He died by his own hand. He died thinking the world had won.


Now, the world is deprived. It no longer has his intelligent mind; his loving heart; his beautiful soul. It can no longer receive his genius; his creativity; his kindness. It has lost someone with so much potential. It has not won from his death and because of its loss, the world is forever changed.