Narrated by Jim:
Normally, introductions are something I struggle with, especially if it's to a large group of people. Because of this, I tend to be a blank slate when it comes to making an effort to meet new people and introduce myself. A few years ago, I started using MeWe to make new friends because I felt lonely. MeWe is a forum where you can meet people, chat, and share a bit about yourself. That's how I met Robert and Jack, two users I encountered while searching for music to download.
I first met Jack, a very friendly and laid-back bat who plays the guitar and loves fantasy movies. Later, I met Robert, a man living independently in his own house with Jack. He loves space and philosophy and usually isn't online much because he works at NewShot, a journalism company. Initially, we didn't talk much because I have a hard time opening up, but after a few weeks, we became such good friends that they added me to their chat group. Every morning before I go to high school, we say good morning to each other. In the afternoons, we chat for several hours, and at night we play video games, all while not neglecting our sleep.
We talk about many things and topics. Today, we discussed an event from a few days ago where an asteroid grazed the earth. Robert was, as always, super happy about witnessing the event. Jack, on the other hand, was excited about his new guitar that "he" had bought. I mostly listened more than I talked today because I didn't want to interrupt them. It was 5 PM, the sun was setting, the atmosphere was soft and soothing, and while they talked, I was just reclining in my chair, reading every message they sent. Little did I know, my tranquility was about to change.
My father burst into the room, slamming the door— Can you explain what your teacher told me! he shouted.
Nervously, because I didn't know what he was referring to, I responded, What do you mean? I said as I jumped out of my chair from the loud noise of him slamming the door and shouting at me.
Your teacher asked me for a meeting just to tell me that... you're a faggot! Is that true? he said, coming closer and looking at me with murderous eyes as if he was going to kill me.
Dad, relax, we can talk about this calmly, at that moment, I was already trembling because my haven of peace had turned into a courtroom where my own father was accusing me of something he shouldn't have known in the first place.
I don't care about that, the conversation is happening now. What I want to know is if you are. Yes or no?
Well, if that's what you want to know, then yes, I said desperately, trying to get out of the situation quickly.
If you are, I'll make sure to get it out of you.
I don't want that, I'm happy this way!
Don't talk to me like that, son, or you'll deal with me if you continue!
But—
Without even letting me finish my sentence, he left the room, again slamming the door. "What just happened?" I repeated to myself as I analyzed what had just occurred. Trembling, I turned back to the MeWe chat where Robert and Jack were chatting. I sat down and started typing for the first time in an hour in that forum.
Damn it— DAMN IT!
I lay on my bed and started thinking about everything that had happened and how this could affect me, how it would influence me, how it would change me... So many thoughts surrounded me, and I began to drown in them.
As night fell, I hesitated about going downstairs for dinner, but a feeling of confidence made me go down the stairs. Once downstairs, I went to the dining room where I found my parents.
—Hey Mom, where's my dinner?
Nothing was heard, and she just gave me a dirty look before continuing to eat. It was obvious that she already knew and wasn't happy about it either.
—Hey, Dad, could you pass the pasta?
Before I could finish the sentence to see if they could pass me my dinner, my mother finally decided to break the silence.
—We don't want you hanging out with that boy anymore.
At that moment, I felt like I'd been stabbed in the back. I already knew what she meant by that.
— But I— before I could finish my sentence, I heard my father exclaim.
— Jim, you heard your mother, now obey her!
—Fine!
I grabbed my dinner and angrily went up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom door, I slammed it harder than my father had and shut it. I sat in my chair and started eating the pasta with eggs that my mother had prepared with much “love.”
—What else is missing now? I said, not knowing that from that evening on, my days would turn into an endless headache, a routine of disdain and rejection that was becoming more and more unbearable, where my room was my refuge to protect myself from my own family.
I'm desperate to get out of here—
That afternoon, my father had come home from work and was on the couch watching television. Meanwhile, my mother was on her then-new and revolutionary phone, talking to her friend. I just went downstairs and approached my father. At that moment, my heart started pounding, but I was determined about what I was going to do.
—Hey, Dad, I know we started off on the wrong foot, and maybe what happened with the teacher wasn't the best, but how about we put our differences aside and just start treating each other like none of this ever happened?
—Yeah, sure, I'll just forget about my son's disorder.
—We've talked about this before, what I have isn't a disorder, no matter how much you want it to be—
— Of course it is, and you know what? Your mother has already paid for a therapy to get rid of all this. It's very easy and simple, and the best part is, we'll make it like none of this ever happened.
— Dad, you can't just ignore who I am. I don't need therapy to "cure" me of being myself. I need you to accept me as I am.
— What you need is to be normal again. This therapy is the best thing for you, even if you don't see it now.
—What I need is a father who supports me, not one who tries to change me.
— I'm doing this for your own good, Jim. One day you'll understand.
— No, Dad, I won't understand. Because what you're doing is rejecting me, not helping me.
—We'll see. Therapy starts on Monday. End of conversation.
—FINE, WHATEVER YOU SAY!
At that moment, I realized that I had no choice, that I couldn't continue enduring this misery and pretending like nothing was happening. I stormed up to my room and went to my computer.
After an hour, I went to my closet and started packing. With my small suitcase from when I visited Grandma on the other side of the country and a backpack with my study materials, I was ready to leave everything behind for the freedom to be myself and not endure this humiliation any longer.
Night fell; it was almost midnight, the time when my parents were deep asleep. My room is on the left side of the house, and right outside my window, there's a ramp-style roof to shield the window below from the sun, making it the perfect spot for an escape.
First, I grabbed my suitcase and threw it onto the grass below. Then it was my turn. I was about to go and jump, but before I did, I took one last look at my room: my bed, the closet where I used to hide as a kid, the superhero posters I used to like, and the computer where I met those who would take me in, people I had never seen before but who would surely accept me.
Then I turned around, made my way to the edge, and carefully crouched to hang from the window before letting myself drop.
I grabbed my suitcase and ran as fast as I could from the house. I didn't want anything to do with it, my parents, or anything related to that place that had destroyed me so much in recent days. I started walking through the neighborhood, passing along the empty, dark road. A cold wind blew around my feet, and I began to tremble with fear because no one knew what could happen to me. And honestly, at this point, I couldn't care less.
Walking through the neighborhood at night is like walking in an alternate dimension, where everything is frozen in time, and silence is your only companion. Even though I knew the place and had walked it before, doing it at night added an element of excitement, the excitement that maybe there's something beyond the darkness.
I reached an area with a neglected stone sign, overgrown with vegetation. The sign read, 'Welcome to Very Very,' the same name Robert had mentioned as the location of his house. I continued walking and started counting the condo numbers: 517, 518, 819, and 520—Robert's.
I stood in front of the house, and a breeze began to blow again, giving me goosebumps from the nerves. But at the same time, I felt happy because I knew they would surely welcome me. I approached the door, counted to three, and
knock!
—I think it's him.
—Let me see.
At that moment, I saw the door open, and I saw a somewhat tall gray mouse wearing a brown jacket and jeans. It was Robert.
— So you must be Jim, right? Welcome.
At that moment, my eyes welled up, and tears began to flow. I collapsed to my knees, and Robert just looked at me with a face of surprise and pity. Then he put his arms around me, and I felt someone else join in—it was Jack, and he said…
—Everything will be fine, don't worry. You have us now, calm down; no one will hurt you here.
We stayed like that for at least 20 more seconds. Once I calmed down, I got up, and they guided me inside the house. I was already on a couch, covered with blankets. Jack was on a red beanbag with a guitar beside him, and Robert was in the kitchen looking for tea to warm me up.
— So, you and your parents didn't come to an agreement?
—No, they even signed me up for one of those conversion therapists, and I hate that.
—Here you go, handing me the tea. At least you left a letter so they know you left.
— Yes, I left a letter expressing my disdain and how lonely I felt, plus the reason I left.
—Well, I see.
At that moment, Jack grabbed his guitar and started playing.
— Don't worry, at least you have us, and we accept you.
—Yes, at least I'm not alone anymore, not anymore.
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