This is a poem I write about (maybe over) a year ago. I feel really proud of it. This is a poem I wrote about coming out, which I never did but tried to connect to that struggle. I hope I did some justice to this amazing process.
Why is this a thing?
Why does it have to be a secret discovered?
Why does it have to be a label I place on myself?
Why does this have to be such a big deal?
How come "being gay" means "being different?"
How come "being gay" can't just be being?
I remember when my best friend showed up with his girlfriend for the first time,
No one was shocked,
No one was surprised,
No one was stunned,
No one said anything about it.
It wasn't weird,
It wasn't different,
And it wasn't bizarre.
But for me,
I bring home the love of my life,
And as soon as I announce that they claim the title of
"Mine"
It's like the world has stopped.
It felt like
People were choking on the
Shock and silence
That filled the room.
I didn't think it was weird,
I didn't think it was different,
I didn't think it was bizarre.
I was just me...