We duct taped our mouths shut.

We pretended not to hear, "slut."

We craved the attention

We received when we cut.

We cried when we were alone.

We never felt at home.

We smiled through the pain.

We looked upon ourselves in shame.

We crawled along the walls.

We hid when we walked the halls.

We stuttered when we spoke.

We forgot how to hope.

We pierced our body.

We tattooed our skin.

We laughed at our hobbies.

We were running from our sins.

//So, I wrote this years ago, when I was beginning to understand who I am and why I am what I am and all that good stuff. Being honest with myself is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Hell, I still say I'm straight when anyone asks, and if you've read anything I've written, you know that's a bold-faced lie. I'm ashamed of who I am, and I know I'm not alone; I've seen the statistics. But no matter how hard I try, I can't pretend to be something that I'm not. Pretending makes it hurt even more. No matter who I am, or how ashamed I am to be that person, I can't change the fact that I am me. I am not straight. I do not conform to standards. My parents would not approve. My religion does not approve. But you know what? To hell with them (or maybe to hell with me?). It's time I stopped running.