They look at me like I have two heads.
Like I’m some sort of bizarre alien from another planet.
A planet where I belong,
a planet where I should stay.
They ask me, “How is that possible?” and they
make barfing noises under their breath
as I walk by. Truthfully,
I don’t have any answers for them.
If I knew I would surely tell,
but these feelings just develop
and there is no explanation.

My mom now pretends I am not hers
and my dad looks at me with shame and disgust.
I didn’t grow up to be the son
they always wanted.
I’m not straight “A” scholar, or a varsity athlete.
I don’t go on dates and I have never brought
home a nice, pretty girl for my mom to meet
and make a fancy dinner for.
My best friend tries to understand me and asks,
“Are you sure? Have you even tried?” and she
gets angry because I have kept this secret from
her for too long. I don’t know
why because she is the only one that I can talk to.
I’ve tried to make it a reality and prove myself wrong.
“Just trust me and we will see if it’s true.”
She whispers to me telling me to grab her waist
and is instructing me on what to do. Her delicate, soft
hands caress my bare chest as she pulls in tight
while her tender, wet lips meet mine.
For a moment I think I feel something.
something that could change my life,
something that would make me feel normal.
Then it fades.
Nothing.
She grabs my sweaty, shaky hands and gently
places them on her round breasts.
A strange, unpleasant sensation hits me and I jump back.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
This just doesn’t feel right to me. I was not born to be like the rest-
I am different.

If only everyone could see that I am not a strange alien
from another planet and that I have feelings, I could be accepted
and not have to disguise who I am. Who I want to be,
who I’m meant to be.
I just hope that one day I will come across another guy
who feels the same way about breasts as I do.