• It’s always amazed me how one incident can turn a person’s life upside down. Whether it is a death, a fight or a chance occurrence on the street, we all go through these things. But for some of us, it’s all because of one person we meet, and without a care, a cocky smile on their face, they knock down the house of cards we’ve carefully erected throughout the years. Because of these people, so many wonderful and horrible things happen to us.

    These thoughts swirl through my mind as I sit here, on some bench downtown, shivering in the frigid air of the early hours of the morning. Because of that person, that catalyst for change, my parents kicked me out of their house, screaming how I was no longer their child. I sit here, battered and torn, bruises scattered over every patch of skin. It hurts to breathe, to blink, and I can guess that I have at least two broken ribs. But here I am, whispering my confessions.

    And the funny thing is I don’t give a damn. I always thought that if my parents found about that person, then my entire life would explode into small fragments. But after the yelling, the beatings and the screaming, I still feel the same as I did before.

    I hear someone call my name and as I look up, I can’t help but smile as warm arms encircle me, and I feel even warmer lips pressed against mine, conveying apologies, happiness, and fear.

    The kiss breaks and their arms hold me tighter against their body. “I’m so sorry,” a voice full of unshed tears chocks out. “I’m so sorry.”

    I laugh weakly, surprised to see a few tears glistening in those eyes above me. I gently reach up to wipe them away. I’m the one who should be crying, not…

    “It’s okay,” I whisper to that person who changed my once set path. “If they can’t accept you, then I can’t accept them.”

    A small smile breaks onto those lips and they descend upon me once more. And I smile, because for once, I’m telling the whole truth. I’m not lying. It surprises me how good it feels.

    This time when the kiss ends, that smooth voice asks, “So, where will you go now?”

    I smile teasingly. “Well,” I whisper. “I could just crash with you.” A soft chuckle resounds between us, and that voice whispers back, “That sounds good to me,” as their hand ruffles my hair.

    Suddenly I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. Pulling the small electronic device out, I find that the small screen displays my mother’s phone number. Without a second thought, I toss the phone into the nearest trash can, take the hand beside me and start walking.

    Why should I answer the phone? Parents who kick their gay kids out don’t deserve the luxury of a conversation.