The door to our room flew open and the sight to be seen was two boys in their night wear, one bleeding and sobbing on the ground while the other was perched on top. I don't know how long I struggled with him but it seemed like a painful eternity. I screamed and held up my arms to block his blows, but he was bigger and stronger than me and he was angry beyond words. I mean, we all do, right? Especially when we're young. I was smart, I had fantastic grades, no one suspected I was different.īut.I made a mistake. I just had to get through it, treat the theology like a game to play, and eventually distance myself from it all when I moved out of the house. No one had to know I was gay, no one had to know I didn't believe in God. When I was done with elementary school, I was shipped off to a notoriously strict Catholic boarding school, the name of which I won't say. I studied the good book, I went to Church, I avoided the temptation of admiring Devon Sawa.whole nine yards. As I grew and matured, I stopped believing in God altogether.īut I loved my family, and so I kept it all bottled inside. No just God would make me a sinner on purpose. I hated the God who would go out of the way to make me different from other boys, to give me something sinful and awful that I couldn't control. From a very young age I remember not being okay with God. I'm a gay man who grew up in a very, very devout Catholic family.
