“I’m twenty-two. It’s not a fucking phase anymore mom,” I argued, probably a little louder than necessary. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I flopped down onto my unmade bed, narrowly avoiding crushing my half-eaten poptart. “It’s not your life anyway, why the hell do you care?”

She was talking. Yelling really, but whatever, I wasn’t listening anyway. I watched the dream catchers hanging from my ceiling sway back and forth on their strings. Must have left the window open.

I didn’t have the will to sit up and check, let alone get up and close it. I could care less if someone overheard.

Tired of holding the phone up, I tossed it to the floor and let her continue her lecture out of earshot. It was fine. Totally fine. I would never go home again. Problem solved.

Maybe one day we would see each other in a grocery store or something and feel the need to exchange awkward hellos. It’s not like I would hide from her, I simply wouldn’t make my presence known unless some outside force required me to.

It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all I had. At least I didn’t live at home; I don’t think I could have dealt with this conversation in person.

“Mom,” I called. I could still hear the mumble of her words against the carpet. “It’s not a good time, mom.” She kept going, and I cannot express how thankful I am that I couldn’t understand her. I threw an arm over the edge of my bed, fumbling for my phone. “Hey, ma,” I practically yelled when I grabbed it, “I’m hanging up.”

I didn’t give her a chance to respond before I ended the call.

I knew this was bound to happen at some point, but I had managed to convince myself my mother wouldn’t find out until much later. I’m not even sure how she found out. I regularly monitored social media to make sure no pictures of me with a girl were leaked, I had never been into PDA, and since I hardly talked to anyone, very few people even knew that I was gay. Am gay. Same thing.

I groaned as I laid back down on the bed. It didn’t really matter anyway. She knew now, and that was that. I wish I had at least been out of college; I wasn’t sure if she was going to continue to help with tuition anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t have decided to go to college out of state.

One more year, I reminded myself. One more year and I’m done with school. Then I can be independent.

Angrily, I shoved the rest of my poptart in my mouth, relishing in the comfort of shitty, processed sugar. I hadn’t had a solid girlfriend in years, or I would have made her skip class and come comfort me. I scrolled through my contacts to see if I wanted to talk to one of my friends, but I gave up halfway. I wasn’t in the mood for people anyway.

“‘S not a fucking phase,” I mumbled bitterly, reassuring myself. “I’m gay. Fucking deal with it.”