Dear Homophobes: From the Girl You Hate

...

I became severely depressed. I slept all day. I cut every day. I tried to commit suicide multiple times. Life sucked. I thought it'd be like this forever, that I'd never get to be myself. I knew that I was gay, there was no way around it. But I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could suppress it. It was almost six months until my parents found out about my self harm. The only reason they found out was because a boy in my class decided to tell them. They didn't say one single word to me, instead they told the principal to tell me they knew. I bawled. I knew how this would turn out: bad. I hid it even more now. Cutting in places no one would ever think to look. I plastered on a fake smile. And acted as if I was fine. It worked for awhile. That is, until I stopped caring. I ended up in the psych unit at the hospital. Four times. They tried multiple different pills, counselling, and ECT. All trying to 'fix' me. None of it worked. And the reason it didn't work? Because I didn't want it to. I deserved it. I deserved to die.

I got in a fight with my parents one day, one of many. I was mad. So I wrote a note, stuck it on the table, and left. It said I was gay, that if they wanted to judge they could shove it, and begging them not to scream at me. My mother called me back about 10 minutes later. She said she accepted me but the look on her face said otherwise. She was disgusted.