•Saturday•
I dunno if it's a sign or not. These dreams that end with me being back in the Caribbean. Do they mean anything? They're actually more like nightmares since I barely like it back there. I know if i were to go back tomorrow I'd be unhappy. Not right away. I'd be happy to see my grand parents and a few other people. Then whatever smile I'd have on my face would quickly fade when I realize I have to stay and that my mom and sister are there too.
I don't hate them. I couldn't hate them. But I'm not strong enough to deal with them yet and I'd fall right back under their control. My sister's more controlling. I'm sure I've said that before. I mean ... if I wore something my sister didn't like .... I couldn't leave the house. If I wanted to stay up and chat online 'til 4 in the morning .... my mom would yell at me to go to bed. And I'm not talking about when I was 16 or so. I mean 19 ... 20. I can't grow if I'm around them. They'd forever smother me and I'd forever be seen as rebelious. My sister even used to screen my calls. I wouldn't dare have a guy call my house. She'd walk into my room with the cordless phone and a "it's someone who's probably fucking you" look on her face.
I have no idea what happened to us. We used to be really close and always stuck up for each other. Actually I'd stick up more then she would. It's weird ... but she was actually the very first person I told that I'm gay. I was actually just like .... hmm ... 12 years old. It was eating me up inside and I had to tell someone. I cried just as hard as I would 5 years later when I would tell my mom.
The words wouldn't even come out. We shared a bed room when we were younger. I sat on her bed and just cried. She had no idea what I was crying about. In the end I wrote it on a slip of paper. I actually just wrote it. "I'm gay" .... right there in my shaking little handwriting. The paper was pretty much soaked in tears also and smudged the ink from the marker. I pushed it over to her and she read it.
She smiled. My face was hurting from crying so much and she was smiling. Back then ... she didn't have judgement in her eyes. She wasn't mean. She was my big sister. My only sister. She was my best friend. The person I said I would marry when I was like 4.
"Just because you're not tough or play sports and stuff .... doesn't make you gay."
I couldn't believe this was happening. I sat on the edge of the bed ... weak from crying and using all my energy to do what I just did and she just killed the whole purpose. I wanted to tell her about the guys at school that I had fooled around with. I was 12 ... not stupid. I wanted to tell her that I like looking at guys and that girls were yucky.
I wanted to tell her that I knew what I felt.
That was the first and last time she would ever hear me utter those words. She would later go on to tell me that I'm a "damn faggot" when I wouldn't do her favors. She would later go on to tell a mutual friend that she's sure I've had guys fuck me. And she would go on to give me the 3rd degree every time she saw guys talk to me in public. And we would later go on to drift apart and not stick up for each other like we used to as kids.
