An aftermath

I thought I was done with this last year. I’m taller. I’ve filled out a bit and got some muscle. I don’t cower anymore. I’m in a new school. Still, today was not a good day. Not only that, but I still have to go to youth group tonight. With a black eye.

I’m not ashamed of who I am. I may be shy and awkward, but I do not hide who I am. I know who I am, what I am, what I believe, what I want, and I’m not afraid to admit any of those things. I am not, nor will I ever be, a heterosexual, traditional male. It is not my problem if other people decide this is something that deserves scorn. I will soldier on with my head held high, no matter how many punches they may throw.

There is one thing I wish, though. I truly do wish that I could keep them from trying to beat me into conforming. I may be big, but I don’t think I’d be able to do much in a fight. I really don’t want to hurt anyone – not even Floyd when he’s at his worst. Still, it’d be nice to be able to scare him off. If I could make it so I never have to come home with bruises, sending my mother into one of her worry fits and my father on a warpath about who put their hands on his son, I’d be happy.

I also wouldn’t mind not being sore.

God, I do not want to deal with youth group tonight. Fuck church.

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