Haunting

Two birds were perched in different positions inside a carport.

One was on top of the parked truck brooding majestically over the roaches waiting hungrily for a delicious cricket to eat.

The other, who was economically beautiful in his own right had his fill of cockroaches beneath the car, but failed the vision of the one above.

One day, both birds wanted the other's lifestyle in the hierarchy. Top bird was so hungry he was willing to risk his domain to grab a piece of the action. Bottom bird was full in his own right and wanted a taste of the occasional sweet life.

So they switched and for a while it was good. Ex-top bird was finally full and ex-bottom bird finally had a taste of haute cuisine. The different vantage points were a welcome change.

When the owner of the car, however, drunk in his stupor waited for no one and hastily backed up the car. The birds in their cloud 9 and splendor failed to spot him in time. Bottom bird who did not run to the side, was run over his overweight guts spewing out of his mouth. Top bird who did not fly was whiplashed against the wall and snapped his neck.

Please Come In! Don’t Mind the Vulture

A True Story

By: John Alejandro

Living in the Vista Del Campo community has been a luxurious and freeing experience. Constant dinners and kickbacks happen for the people that I hold close without the constant nagging of the parental units when I have people over. I had the privilege of living with a random who was probably one of the nicest and most caring people I’ve ever met and I hope he continues to rendezvous in my life. I’ll dub him Daye.

However as good things come, there is a sick balance of nature to equalize life. I also had the opportunity to feel personal hell of living with the worst roommate. I’ll dub him Zilla, an ode to a horrible monster from the deep. I’m not a difficult person to live with. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. I go out of my way to make sure your stay at Chateau John is more than pleasant. The place is always immaculately organized and clean. Housework is divided unfairly towards me favor and my friends are your friends. The first few weeks with Zilla and Daye were to test the waters. I read people easily and I knew right away that Zilla would be a problem.

September

I threw a back to school party equipped with the works, and I had made chicken wings. Hot, spicy, delicious and abundant about two trays enough to feed the army I was expecting. At its start, Daye, his girlfriend, my bff in exile Srixati, Zilla and I sat around waiting for people to come. It was quaint. As people arrived I took the wings out of the oven and mingled for a while. Different social circles converged while people were dancing on the living room.

About a quarter into the event, people started asking who the creeper was on the table staring at everyone? As far as I knew, I didn’t and generally don’t invite creepers to my parties. When I went outside to check on our mystery guest, I found Zilla in the center of the table with one tray of chicken wings on one side as he was brooding over a pile of chicken bones up front. It was as if there was an eating contest that I forgot to emcee. Even worse, it appeared as if he dissected and devoured a whole person (in buffalo sauce).

It appeared horrible, but I got a kick out of it because on one side of the room there was sensual dancing the mood Christmas lights were doing their magic, and on the other side a zombie was feasting on a carcass. Jokingly, I told Zilla to “save some for other people”. I don’t remember his reaction, but an acknowledging grunt, like from a cannibal, seems to fill the lapse in memory.

November

Pippin’s annual Halloween dinner was close and I needed a costume that says “I’m a cute nerd!” As if my regular style of dress doesn’t already suffice. I put on a maroon vest on top of a striped shirt and very skinny cream pencil chinos. It was a gay Clark Kent more than anything else, but whatever.

I went out of my room to solicit advice from Daye and his girlfriend, when Zilla comes out of his room a quarter of a second later (a common practice to ensure that he is included in any and every conversation). He had on a very stylish tattered white, or actually more yellow than white, wife-beater, a 500 o clock shadow, a splash of curly pube-like chest hair, and red shorts. Very avant-garde. And as I was about to leave Daye’s room he comes in so I stay for a while, because it’s always interesting what he will say next. Whenever he’s around, the atmosphere turns horrid sour, like if you just smelled a wet fart or you’ve just been told that your cousin is actually Hitler’s reincarnation. So I ask his opinion, what he thinks about the outfit never again will I do such a thing. He said without emotion and sort of a hungry look, “You look fucking adorable.” Silence. With a sentence, he took my will to live. I left for work.

Of course Daye and the girlfriend had the biggest laugh and now had ammunition to use and torture me for the next couple of weeks. I spent all night not resting from a long day’s work, but trying to convince them that the ogre did not like me whatsoever.

December

When you work in retail, food, or other repetitive jobs you develop unique skills and become very efficient. Like for example you find a faster way of folding clothes, setting up, dealing with monotony etc. Living with Zilla had not blessed me with a routine acceptance of his odd behaviors, instead to my detriment I developed ways to test and to observe them.

What can I use to get rid of this grease?

On one occasion I was washing dishes and like clockwork Zilla comes out of his room. He opened his cabinet to see if he still had any dried bats left to eat and stood two feet behind me, hovering… breathing down my neck…waiting… A normal person’s default thinking would be “Oh, he will do his dishes after I do mine.” I hurry up just a bit because I might have been inconveniencing him (Yes that’s a word I looked it up!) Minutes pass by and I finally finish rinsing. Before I could even turn around, he goes back to his room without doing them.

Please Come In! Don’t Mind the Vulture

I have friends over all the time. I tell them in advance to please come in, and don’t mind Zilla. He’s special. On another occasion, I had someone for lunch who thought I was merely exaggerating, which I often do, but alright don’t heed my warning you’re in for it. We had a nice lunch (which obviously whenever I have people over it’s hard to be polite and invite Zilla as well because A I don’t want to cook for him B The whole atmosphere Hitler thing). To my detriment that doesn’t actually matter. Zilla like clockwork comes out of his room, I introduce him to her, which is the least I could do, and he grabs a chair next to her. We start talking, and I throw in a couple of leads for him the way you do when the people you’re talking to don’t know each other. But pretty soon I get tired of including him in the conversation. Sink or swim buddy. So he sits and doesn’t talk for the rest of the lunch, simply just listens and stares at us for the next 5 hours.

Winter Quarter

Sexy Incident

Zilla’s been absent for quite some time. Daye was told that Zilla was rushing for a fraternity. “What frat would accept him?” I thought or if accepted “In the near future many will be creeped upon, poor women (or men…only god knows).” I’m just sort of glad he’s out of my hair for a while. Then, before you know it old Zilla strikes again. I was only told of this by Daye’s girlfriend.

Apparently he came home drunk that night, which I can confirm because I saw him still sleeping when I got back, one arm hugging the top of the couch. He slept while tufts of chest hair protruding out of the wife-beater danced on my comforter. I washed it right away. Anyway, the girlfriend was doing something in the kitchen and out of nowhere Zilla says “Hey why don’t you wear something provocative”. I burst out laughing. FINALLY I had revenge after the Halloween costume incident. Then rape crossed my mind and stopped the laughter.

“Put that fucking bitch in his place.” I told Daye “That’s your girlfriend!”

He shrugged it off and called it a day.

Daye’s Room

We were in the living room drinking tea and studying, a habit during finals. Every minute we’d find a distraction. Either “hey you want some soup” or “hey check this out, it’s a new” or “did you know that google chrome is better than the world” or “what’s the strongest strain of weed?” Any question would result in his trademark answer “we should look it up!” His tone is similar to anchorman’s “And that’s the way the cookie crumbles!”

Studying for finals is not as entertaining without Zilla. This story is more abstract than actually interesting or weird. Put your own interpretation into it. I will. Zilla would periodically come out of his cave to open his side of the kitchen cabinet, look inside to see if the wild buffalo is done curing, decides that it needs a couple more hours of smoke, and leaves back to his room. Five minutes later he’ll be back to open the fridge, look inside, and leaves without anything. Ten minutes later his buffalo is perfectly cooked (which is disguised as a box of cereal), he takes a couple of bites puts the box back and walks off.

Later that night I saw the silhouette of a shadow from Daye’s light. Zilla was inside his room. He knew the whole time that we were in the living room, and he stayed a good two minutes.

“Hey he’s inside your room!” I said

“What’s he doing in there?” Daye asked

“I dunno god, maybe looking for a wife?”

And after this, both our doors are locked if we’re gone for an extended amount of time.

Hasta La Vista Baby

Daye’s really nice. He is the yin to my yang when it comes to interacting with Zilla. That is, I don’t and he does. One day standing in front of his den they were chatting it up like no other. I was on the sofa reading when I heard an insane out of nowhere machine gun of Swarchenegger gibberish from Zilla. He sounded something like “Atotatatotao I lika ita lika data.”

And again there is always a bar to be raised.

Food

I’m usually generous to my friends. There is just that connection like family and I make food for them. They can usually grab whatever they want in my kitchen. Zilla, however is not a friend. Zilla pillages our food, and worst of all he doesn’t even ask. I’m not a stingy person, but damn that’s my food that he didn’t ask permission for. He only steals things that he can get away with like milk, cereal, protein powder, etc. To my surprise, I’ve stooped to a new low and created scenarios and tests just to confirm it has been him:

Milk

Do you ever wonder what happens to milk when you don’t drink it for a while? It drinks itself! Yes its true! Just like air fresheners, if you don’t use milk it lessens in volume. I measured milk down to the meniscus (which I didn’t really have to because a significant amount was taken over a period of a couple of days). Once I found out it was being used, I started writing my name on my milk.

However it isn’t enough, what if Daye was using it? I had to know! It was still being consumed even with my name.

So one day I ask Daye, “Hey, how does he eat cereal in his bowl (that has milky residue on the sink) if he doesn’t actually buy milk?”

So the next day I wrote “DO NOT USE!!!” under my name. I wish scientists could have this kind of instant gratification when performing complementation tests, but right when I wrote this, Zilla bought two 2 gallon jugs of vitamin D milk the next day. And started buying his own milk halfway through the year.

Sugar Cookie

I dislike sugar cookies. The vanilla with sugar has such a cheap taste in my mouth, my tastebuds would rather commit suicide than be involved with the,. So I decided to use them as bait and left it in the main fridge, not my personal one. Throughout the week the count went down by four.

“Question, its totally fine if you did, but did you eat four sugar cookies from the container?” I asked Daye.

He shook his head and I explained to him the situation.

Cookie

One night after a round of mayhem and eating, Daye drops a chocolate covered biscotti cookie all over the dirty kitchen floor.

“Wait” and this is where I turned evil “I’m gonna do something with it”

I set it on a napkin and left it on the table conspicuously before we called it a day. The next morning, the cookie disappeared.

“You didn’t throw the cookie away did you?” I asked Daye

“Nope”

And I realized the napkin was still there with screaming evidence, the crumbs were still there…

Protein powder

Any bodybuilder or anyone who subscribes to substituting some plant protein instead of too much red meat knows how expensive protein powder is. There was still about a quarter of it when I left for summer vacation. Upon my return, I could see the bottom of the container.

Just like the cure for cancer, I can only find leads and affirmations as to how I can test what kind of food Zilla has been pillaging. I’m sure there are many other things I’ve missed. God knows what else he’s been stealing from Daye, who always has a variety of food to survive three nuclear holocausts. Judging from the type of food he stole, I’ve deduced that he’s a deranged Santa Claus.

Spring Quarter

Hookah Hooligan

Srixati, Janeyp, Daye and I were smoking hookah. But of course to be polite Zilla was invited along. Throughout the night Zilla would pull out his Blackberry to take pictures of this wondrous night. I tried my best to avoid him having a picture of me on his phone.

I finally asked him to “please not take a picture of me. I don’t want this to go up on facebook”

“It’s only hookah what’s the problem” Zilla said

“I don’t want people to see this and misconstrue it” I said.

After agreeing not to I started to pretend text in the awkward situation. When I looked up I saw a flash. He took one last picture of me behind the hookah. I glared at him and imagined his hair on fire. I took Srixati inside my room and vented…

Would You Like Some Ass Crack?

Daye was working up some circuits or whatever he does experimentally on paper for his electrical engineering class. He was sitting on a stool with his finals stuff on the dinner table. Zilla decides to study with him. However, the bar will be raised again. Instead of sitting next to or in front of Daye like a normal person, he decides to take the scenic route. He laid his towel on the dirty floor next to the trash can and, like a dolphin begging for some stinky, faced Daye’s ass. Faced, not as in across the room. Faced, as in two feet away and he can get a whiff of the nasty.

“Did you see how he was laying down earlier?” Daye asked.

“Yeah haha I guess he really wanted to ask.”

Final thoughts

I obviously am humanizing someone so socially defunct. This essay was written to ask this question. How far do you go to be polite to a roommate? What is my boiling point?

According to my reflections. I went really far to be polite to someone I dislike, however I made it known to Zilla that I hate his guts. That may sound like I am either a sucker for punishment or a fake, but for some ingrained reason there is something that tells me I should be a good person. As for the second question, I do not have a boiling point. I have the patience of a brick wall. Damn it…

Suicide

Written 2006:

Close all the windows

Shut all the doors

And tip my head on the stove

Gas all my depressions away

and send me to Nirvana

through clear like waves

that surface and blow

high into the air

Every little purple pill I take

will get me closer to defeat

Or is it a shortcut to the finish line?

A getaway car for a thief?

Monopoly for a tycoon?

Put a bullet through my head

So that it may blast away all

My memories and impact on

Every axon, strip away all

The myelin sheath around so that

No more pain carried through

Electricity may reach my brain

And let me die so no longer do I

Have to live in this sick world

And don’t let me live through false

Fantasies of hope and latter

Promises of heaven to come

A Blade of Grass

A coming out story freshman year in high school

By: John Alejandro

It’s tough, but you’ll come out stronger.

This is what it might feel like first. But you’ll get over it. Life will go on.

Everyone, including them, will love you in the end.

Everything will stabilize later…I promise

Don’t live a lie.

The following is an account written two days after my coming out. I wrote it then to remind myself what I live for, and maybe to help those in the future who want to come out in any way possible.

--------------------

I’m at my cousin’s house worrying the hell out of myself. I talked to them as they calmed me down.

“I didn’t tell them anything. It’s just that my dad read a chat leading to a part that says ‘so did you want to kiss him?’ He freaked out when he saw that and well I ran away here” I said in panic.

“Don’t worry about it, did you tell him anything?”

“No I didn’t, it’s just that why do they have to act like this? I mean is that much of a big deal?”

“The way they grew up it was sodomy to be gay. They haven’t realized yet that times are changing and people are acting different. I just want you to know that I love you okay?”

“I know I know. I need to call my aunt. I want to talk to her. Can I use your phone?” I asked

“Go ahead” replied my cousin.

“Hello Lyn?”

‘Yes? Drix?’ she said

“Yeah it’s me”

‘Hello, what’s going on why do you sound so worried? Are you okay?’

“No...my dad...he found clues and suspects that I’m gay”

‘Well why don’t you just tell him you’re not, you’re not aren’t you?’

“That’s the problem, I’m sorry I just told you now, but I really need your help” I begged

‘What you ARE?!’ she said worried

“Yes and please help me, my parents are going berserk and I need to know if you can come over here because it feels like they’re gonna kill me?”

‘Oh my god you’re gay....oh...god...Wait are you sure you’re gay? Listen this is probably just a confusing time for you and you’re just going through a phase. You’ll get over it.’ she replied nonchalantly

“I’ve already had a boyfriend” I answered back

‘And do you do stuff with this boy?’ she interrogated

“That’s not important now, I just need to know if you can come over.” I begged once more

‘It’s too late right now. Just go home and pretend that everything is okay, even if it isn’t but I want you to stay strong for me you hear? Your dad will spot your weakness and he’s going to use that against you and I will come tomorrow with your uncle.’ she reassured me.

“Okay thank you so much, goodbye”

“Well what’d she say?” asked Garette

“She’s coming over tomorrow after dinner.”

“Well good, just don’t rush into telling them or do anything stupid” said Jean my cousin.

“Do you want any food? Water? Anything?” asked her husband.

“No I’ll just go home now”

“I’ll drop you off”

I got in Garette’s car and we drove past the church, which happens to be in front of the townhouse where I lived. He dropped me off by the curve. As I walked, I thought to myself ‘what the hell am I going to say, why couldn’t I just have parents that weren’t too conservative and ones that can understand and love me for who I am’. I rang the doorbell. A rotund figure walked through the living room filled with Catholic relics as his shadow radiated on the mosaic window near the entrance. The door swung open and a distraught face appeared.

“COME IN WE NEED TO TALK,” my dad’s voice boomed, he grabbed me by the arm.

“All right, you’re hurting me!”

“Why did that chat say ‘did you want to kiss HIM’ huh? Are you a faggot? Are you one of those disgusting sodomizing people in America? God why the hell did I bring you here if only I knew that this FUCKED up culture was going to do to you.”

“You have no right to go through my mail!” I said half crying

“Huh? Yeah? I don’t huh? Asshole! It’s my right as a parent to know how my kid is doing! .....you don’t have the right to go through my mail....” his face turned bloodshot

“I’m going to my room”

“We’re not done talking! Who said you can go?! Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you!” he said, as his voice shook the floor.

He shouted, screamed, and yelled his words. If there was a god I wished him to kill me now. End my life. I didn’t know who I was anymore. All I thought was how to get out of a situation that involved a 200 lb man and the issue of being gay, and then cry later. I summoned up a few more minutes of vitality and endured a tirade of notions of going to hell. He finally stopped and I went into my room where I cried myself to sleep. That night was the worst night of my entire life. Never before did I see my parents side with one another and cared about something else rather than my grades. That’s what they cared about most anyway. For me to study well, get good grades and a scholarship so I can be rich. But then again I don’t know what tomorrow brings.

I woke up the next day finding my laptop open on an internet site about the Hamptons. Everyone looks so peaceful. I looked around and my shutters were also open and the room to my door was open. Satan and his wife were still sleeping, I thought as I walked through the hallway to get into the bathroom. I locked the door, brushed my teeth, and did my usual morning business when I saw on the mirror that my eyes were as red as a tomato and my cheeks were puffed into an almost marshmallow texture. I didn’t even feel like bawling, probably because all my hormones are still up and I didn’t want to break down yet. I went downstairs for cereal then my parents door opened and slammed back closed. Upon hearing the shock, my spoon fell because I thought I got shot. To my surprise it was a man walking down the stairs, mad-dogging me as he came closer. It was a lovely Tuesday and time for school.

We said nothing to each other as we walked to the Toyota Corolla parked in the garage. Cars passed us by, and I still kept quiet. Honks from the back signaled that he was driving too slow. Then, he took a sharp turn right when someone was trying to pass him. ‘Am I going to die today?’ I thought. Who knows? He dropped me off on the corner of Springport, where I usually walk another thirty yards to get to school.

“Asshole...” he murmured to me as he jetted off.

I wore my sunglasses in the hallway because I didn’t want people to see that I’d been crying. That whole day was a total drag. I didn’t concentrate or focus in class because of the fact that tonight my Aunt was coming over and I didn’t know what to do or say or how they’re going to react because up to this point, my parents didn’t know that I was gay. Later at lunch, my friend Shannon happened to notice I was crying and I told her everything and as a friend she made me feel better about the fact that everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know if everything was going to be all right.

My last school period ends in three minutes, I thought. My mom is picking me up in about 15 minutes, so that gives me about twenty to think thoroughly what I’m going to say, and what my comebacks were going to be. I didn’t think of anything. I walked through the gate and the wind was blowing dust all over my face. Dust got stuck in my eye. I walked across the street on the corner of Springport, where the SUV arrives every three o clock. I dropped my backpack on the cement sidewalk and jammed my butt down the concrete as I waited for a few more minutes, she was five minutes late, she’s never late.

“Hello” I said pretending nothing happened

Nothing.

Whatever...I don’t have to talk to her. I didn’t do anything wrong. It was because they were shocked and confused made the fact that they needed to hate me and that’s not right, I reassured myself. Nine minutes of driving silence made me think about El tigre (a fake name to protect his identity). He was the reason everything in my life changed since I met him. I loved his smile, his eyes, and his lean physique. Everything about him made my heart flutter, the way he whispered his words, even in normal conversation, the way his shoulders were leaned back when he walk, and when he smiles, two massive dimples appeared on his cheeks. Oh how I loved those dimples. So much hate, from so much love.

The Highlander stopped abruptly, and that was my cue to get off.

“Thank you” I said, even if there was never going to be an answer.

“You need to change yourself. You need to be straight. Men are supposed to be masculine, not girls!” she shouted as she drove off.

I felt nothing, somehow I’ve been numbed by everything that was given to me at a high dose. I felt immune, I felt a different kind of relief as I opened the door and dropped my stuff down. The salad is in the fridge, I could have some of that with a little bit of pepper and some vinegar and my lunch was complete. This day felt so different, but I continued with my normal routine. Get home, eat, do homework, play, sleep. This worked to my advantage. But today I might not get to play or sleep. Anxious clock hands kept ticking away minutes of eternity. Every hour I wait for my aunt to call me that she was coming. Every minute, focus fades away and I couldn’t do much of the things I used to. Even normal tasks such as going to the restroom took a second thought of “should I get up and go?”

Five thirty came and the first one to arrive was my mom. I didn’t greet her, as how she replied to my earlier greeting. I merely sat on my chair surfing the internet, while I could hear banging of dishes downstairs. I felt trapped. I wanted to get a glass of water, but the sight of her face giving me a dirty look prevented me from going. Six o clock and I could hear whispers of my complete embarrassment and even my death coming. Again I stayed in my room waiting for that call. Seven came and still nothing. I left my room to go use the restroom, but I had to make sure that the hallway was clear. I sneaked out, feeling like a prisoner escaping from his jail cell, into the bathroom. I turned the knob, and it won’t open. Crap! Someone was inside. A grunt was made and I scurried back into my room.

At eight o clock my aunt called and said that she was in front of my house. Finally. Thank god, kind of ironic nonetheless, a figure who was in my side finally came. I ran down to open the door and called my parents into the dining room. Hesitating steps went down the stairs as I kindly asked them to sit down. Their faces drowned in anger, and noses erect.

“Drix called us here because he wants to tell you something” my aunt said, “it is very important and he just told us last night so we didn’t know this for a long time either. Go ahead and tell them.”

“Mom and dad, I don’t know how to say this, but I want you to know so we can keep an honest relationship.” I said, “I’m bi.”

“What?! What the hell is bi?!” my dad shouted

“Bisexual, means that I like both girls and guys” I replied

“Oh my god...Oh my god....OH MY GOD...You’re my only son, how the fuck could you do this to me? How the hell do you turn that way. It’s your fucking shows isn’t it, Will and Grace, bullshit all the media brainwashed you to turn this way. I should’ve never bought cable...Oh my god!!!!!!! WHY?! How could you do this to me? Oh my god I raised a faggot! I worked so hard for you and your mom for us to get to America and this is what the culture does to you? AND THIS IS THE WAY YOU FUCKING REPAY ME?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” he shouted, and screamed and yelled.

His face turned red, and he started breathing furiously. Tears flowed again. I’m still human. I grabbed tissue, gasped for air, and hiccups came. I teared, and moments later I cried.

Following a monologue which pierced through my heart, my mom started weeping. Why?

“You’re just confused Drix” she said, “you’re just too smart to know what’s good for you. You became too smart and its just a phase but you have to control it....You’re our only son...Please..” she sobbed

“Its not phase.” I cried “why don’t you just accept me for who I am? Where’s the unconditional love that you’re supposed to give me?”

“Unconditional love...fucking asshole...You’re a fucking asshole! How could you do this to me...What the hell?! Fuck this shit Fuck everything!” screamed my dad in Tagalog, however it is articulately translated for you here.

“Ed stop it!” my aunt said. She hugged my head, “can’t you see you’re hurting the child? It’s okay Drix, it’s okay.”

She rocked my head front and back as she tried to fight off my dad. I knew it wasn’t okay. Not everything’s going to be fine, until after a while. He approached as he made a circle with his hands pretending to wring my neck and coming closer.

“FUCK YOU!” he said

“Don’t get near me! GO away” I yelled as my aunt blocked him.

He ran upstairs and went into my room. I could hear banging and clashing sounds as my stuff fell downstairs. My teddy bear, my necklaces, my bamboo plant all came tumbling after. My poster of Orlando Bloom flew down in a crushed ball.

“See how many things make you a girl?! Huh? You shouldn’t even have this stuff! These are for girls. You bitch!” he said.

“Mike could you please stop him...” I begged “He’s throwing away half my stuff”

“You know Drix, this is how your dad deals with his emotions. I say stopping him will only make it worse. Just let him go”

“But my stuff…”

“Those are only material things. They mean nothing.” he said. I believed him. My things do not define who I am, these are merely representations of me.

My mom got up from the dining table and went out. My aunt handed me another tissue and I wiped my tears and blew my nose. I saw my reflection on the toaster next to the table. My eyes were bloodshot and my eye had black circles that sunk to the floor. I hated the way I looked when I’m miserable. I hate it...

“Excuse me” I said as I got up and left

I went into the cold outside. The cold was drying the moisture off my face leaving a hard residue of salt where my tears were once where. I ran to the garage and hid in a corner where I called my friend Shannon.

“Shannon....” I bawled “it’s John, I need to talk to you”

“Oh my god, John are you crying?” she said “Dude what happened, why do you sound like that”

“I told my parents that I was bi and they freaked out.” tears started running again

“Oh...they didn’t handle it well...John I need you to calm down right now okay? I need you to talk to me and tell me what happened”

“I’ll try...”

“Okay so you just recently told them that you were bi?” she asked

“Yeah, and I thought it was going to clear a lot of things up, but they just exploded! Fucking homophobes! Why couldn’t they just understand? There’s a lot of crap I’m going through right now and I don’t need another issue to deal with. I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this. All I ever try to do is make them happy. All my grades are good, the way I treat them is what any parent would kill to have their child act like! God I wish I had different parents...I hate them I hate them so much, I’ve never gotten in trouble, I never did drugs or anything wrong and yet they act like this. Fucking Catholics...I swear, all they preach about is equality and charity but what the fuck do these people do?!”

“Aww...John...I know this is a tough time for you, but you have to stay strong okay?” she said with a comforting voice, “things will get better, just give them time and maybe they’ll learn to accept you”

“My uncle is outside where I am, probably there to guard incase that I run” I told her

“Who else is there”

“My aunt and uncle, that’s all” I said.

An ogre slowly walked through the entrance of the garage and came toward me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out.

“Give me your fucking cell phone, we need to talk this through!” he said with a menacing tone.

“Get away from me! Let me go!” I yelled at him

He took my cell phone and put it in his pocket and dragged me back inside. The warm living room flushed my face red. It was an inviting place, an ironic twist, in which I’m comfortable from the cold, yet tortured. It turns out that he threw away the stuff he sent flying out. I ran into my room and kept silent for half an hour. It was now nine o clock.

I looked around my room. It seems so empty and desolate missing the essential things that make me….well me. Then footsteps came and it was my mom. She asked me to come down and I did. I feared nothing could be far worse. I was so numbed to everything that had happened that I felt like a mindless zombie.

Upon reaching the last step, I turned my head and scanned the living room. Sitting was a man in a dark outfit with a square on his neck. My mom went to the church to get help from a priest. I was too dumbfounded and shocked to even say a word. I just let my tinnitus ring to the whole tirade of the parents and the priest.

After this event, a series of smaller events in which my dad degraded fags happened, my allowance was cut, and I was not allowed to go out past a certain time. Both would remind me every day to turn straight. And for a few months, and now to my shame, I tried... to deny who I was and force myself to turn straight. Futile was the best way to describe it at the time. Now it just seems ridiculously stupid.

I used this anger to strive hard. I found jobs. I tutored, worked with the school district, spent more time in extracurricular clubs in school, and got into UCI’s competitive nursing program. I channeled this fuming anger into something productive. Now my parents can’t do anything that will disrupt me. I am infinitely stronger, not insecure or damaged, but someone that has thrived.

Life with them is more peaceful now. There’s a tacit understanding of both parties’ stances and situations. Religion played the majority role into this affair, but now I realize that I can’t stereotype religious people in the same way they stereotype gay people as flamboyant hairdressers and comedians so opulently viewed in the Filipino culture. I now identify as gay. I used bisexuality to help them and I to transition, however that backfired. I consider myself lucky to have lived so close to hate that I know how to avoid it.

I am a blade of grass that breaks through asphalt in a church parking lot. If I had a choice to come out again, I’d do it over and over again.