Sometimes, I lay awake in the deep quiet of the night, thinking about everything that’s happened in my life. I imagine the blackness surrounding my bed as a symbol of my mind’s disquiet. Endless questions bounce around my skull, ceaselessly assaulting my slowly but surely crumbling defenses. There were times when the blackness didn’t leave with the rising sun, when eternal sleep seemed like the only solution that would bring me peace. I wanted it, I wanted so badly to finally find some solace in a world that made no rational sense to live in, yet I was afraid to take those necessary steps to irrevocably ensure it. I was at an impasse of never-ending torment.
The sad thing about this metaphorical war, the completely irrational truth, is that it’s not being waged against terrorists or people who wish others harm. This war is against normal, loving human beings, people who just want their basic rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, to life and love whoever they want, whether they be of the same sex or not. Those who wage this war don’t care who they hurt, or what those people do. I was just an abomination to them, a casualty to a cause that shouldn’t have been a cause in the first place. They have no idea who I am or what their onslaught does to me. I’m just another faceless target of outdated beliefs, ignorance, fear, and hatred.