Mental Mayhem

Like any normal person, I talk to myself. Sometimes aloud, but more often not. I'm sure everyone's lost an argument to themselves at least once before, and there's not really anything you can do about it. Now, for me, I have a lot of arguments. Most of the time, it's about whether I should eat the fifth cookie or if I really need to cook another hot pocket, whereas I don't put up much of a fight. But the arguments I do put forth effort into...Those are more serious. They look a lot like this:


*pretty girl walks by*

Me: *looks over subtly* 

Me: Oi! What are you doing?! Stop it!

Me: *shakes head, smacks self in the face*

Me: Don't look at her, don't turn your head, don't-

Me: *does a double take*

Me: Just for a second.

Me: *smacks self again much, much harder*

From an outside view, that's what it looks like. Here's what it sounds like on the inside:


*pretty girl walks by*

Me: "Hm. Not bad. Not bad at all."

Me: "Dude, control yourself. You're not some hormonal teenage boy."

Me: "Might as well be. It wouldn't hurt to glance. No one will even notice."

Me: *Sudden realization as to what I am doing* "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just did that. Bad Alex! Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD!"

Me: "See what I mean? Big no-no."

Me: "Yeah, I see. But -"

Me: "No 'buts'."


So basically, I have two minds, all the time. One is telling me to just do what I want, while the other is essentially the voice of reason. Both make valid arguments, minus the fact that one plays with my emotions far too much. But, as one of my favorite TV shows says, "I've tried so hard to push this feeling away, to keep it locked inside, but every day just feels like a war." 

Oh, the truth of that statement. But, instead of fighting a battle on two fronts, I find myself trying to fight three. The first? It's the more spiritual part of me: My belief that is rooted so deeply inside of me. The knowledge that I've gained from my religion that any homosexual activity is a sin. And it's not necessarily that the attraction is a bad thing, but acting on it is. 

The second is more emotional and physical; the fact that every fiber of my being wants something that it can't ever have. Basically, I am drawn to the female population because of the emotional connection that you can't quite have with a man. Also, with the way women are objectified and constantly put on display in magazines and other media outlets to be admired for their beauty? It doesn't help that I see that everywhere I go. (It's quite awful, actually, feeling like a hormonal teenage boy all the time.) 

And the last is my logical/mental self: It wouldn't be smart to be different, to be the outcast. I'm already different enough as it is. After all, being a separate ethnicity than everyone else already draws too much attention. Then there's the opinions, the bluntness. It's not insensitive, but, for some people, can be uncomfortably straight-forward. To declare my attraction to the same gender? I'm pretty sure that would push people over the edge.

So I kept to myself. I didn't share anything personal with anyone, even my family. I always saw myself as an outsider, and I sort of blocked everyone from seeing the real me. The one that was hiding in the corner, afraid and ashamed of what people would think of her. But on the outside, I was happy and outgoing, always making new friends. Even throughout high school, I managed to stumble upon the most accepting and fun-loving clique: The theatre nerds. We laughed, we played, we accepted one another for all of their virtues as well as their flaws. It was the best family I could've asked for. (Also, I ran into some pretty interesting people because of that.)

While my social life at school was awesome, I couldn't say the same for my home life. I was more guarded around my family than I was with my friends. I didn't want them to know me, I didn't want them to judge me.

You're probably thinking, "Alex, they're your family. They'll love you no matter what."

I know. I've heard that probably a million times now.

But life at home proved otherwise. Ever since I was twelve, I had been teased about just about everything. My sense of style, the way I walked, the way I did my hair. Heck, even my favorite type of music. And I'm not referring to the normal "teasing" that every kid goes through. I mean the judgmental looks from my siblings and parents. I would simply walk out of my room, and my own mother would look me up and down with an expression that said, "Where did I go wrong with you?". Then she'd sigh, shake her head, and go back to whatever it was that she was doing. I'd continue into the kitchen, and see my sister eating breakfast. Same reaction. Except the look would go with the phrase, "What are you wearing?"

It wasn't just clothing. I would be teased about being in certain classes, liking certain things. I played the flute when I was younger, and later into high school. Did I get a bunch of crap for being in Band class? You betcha. Although none of my siblings had any malicious intent, their words still got through and managed to tear my self-esteem down. The most common phrases I heard included, "Band is for losers", "You're so weird for doing that", and others just like it. 


So I guess, maybe a part of me didn't want to reveal my little secret to anyone because I was already a freak. I used to think that it was cool to be different, to be unique. Now I realize it's what sets me apart from the rest of my friends and family.  

When I was around my friends, being different was awesome. I was always the funny one with the smart-aleck comments, and I was extremely blunt. I was sarcastic, brutally honest, and basically the witty one. If I hadn't been as talented as I was (no bragging -promise) I never would have had the guts to be as forward as I was. But, lucky for me, my friends loved me just the way I was. They loved that I was different from them, whereas my family treated it like a curse -like it was some disease. 

But life goes on, and people grow up. They grow out of their grudges and stupid prejudices. I'm not excluded from that. I wish I could be more close to my family, but at this point, there's not much that would help. And it's rough, but it's like they say: "The struggle is real."