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Feelings

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If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door… And that’s all. I ask for the movement to continue. Because it’s not about personal gain, not about ego, not about power… it’s about the “us’s” out there. -Harvey Milk.

Her forehead was scrunched up, her head hurting. No, I couldn't be-

There was that word again. Not that she was afraid. No. She wasn't. She'll just tell her parents. Tell her friends. Harvey Milk's words floated in her head, Come out. Come out to your family, come out to your friends, if they are indeed your friends.

They'll still love me anyways, if they do indeed love me. Her feelings were mixed up in a bunch, just last month she was obsessing over some new guy with abs, and now, now she wasn't. But something about that other girl was different. Real different.

No, no, it's not possible, is it? some part of her brain still denied.

She hugged her knees, deciding what to do, practicing her speech inside her head. Mom, Dad, I-I'm.. Oh gosh. If she couldn't even think it, how can she even say it? Out of frustration, she threw her pillow across her room. Guess I'll improvise, she sighed in her head, took a deep breath, and went down the stairs.

She saw her parents, laughing at something hilarious on TV. "Er, mom?" she says nervously.

"Yes, honey?" her mom replied.

"I've got something to tell you guys," she said, rocking back and forth.

"Just spit it out now," her dad said.

"I-I'm," she lets out a deep breath before continuing.

"Come on now, dear," her mom urged.

"I-er, I like girls?" she said, and ran out the front door.

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