I came out this year-

    To parents, I’m not quite sure I know.

I didn’t know the consequences of my identity-

        For all I knew- I could die or be in the process of dying.

At first- they handled it-

    But as time went on, and on, and on-

They seemed to get less and less and less accepting-

    Of me.

I misunderstood why at first-

    Thought it was my fault-

        My fault I am imperfect:

        The fact that I got an 89 that one time-

        The fact that I would wake up much later than they wanted me, at times-

    The fact that I never had my room as neat as they wanted it-

But as time went on, and on, and on-

And as I tried to become him, slowly, but surely- as I thought-

    They seemed to get less and less and less accepting-

I’m starting to understand now-

    I’m starting to face reality, in which-

   No matter how many times I go through the horrid stages of grief: 

    Denial-

     Anger-

Bargaining-

Depression-

Acceptance-

I keep getting stuck on the very former:

        Denial-

Hey Mom- I’m Qualified for Mensa!

Hey Dad- I’m an Athlete!

Hey- Are you… proud?

Silence fills the room for what seems like eras-

    How can they love someone they see as a blasphemer?

  If my identity is blasphemy- what am I to them?

I want to accept your existence- and cherish it-

Yet I am having trouble-

It’s a Mix of Jealousy and Competitiveness.

I am jealous of you.

    Jealous of the fact that the book you inspire has more love than they have for me.

    Jealous of the fact that your words can make them stop loving me.

    Jealous of the fact that they love you, a person they have never met, over me.

    Jealous of the fact that they sympathize with you- when they have never seen your tears.

They have seen my blood, sweat, tears, and toil in their very flesh and blood- 

    But yet they choose you over me.

I am very jealous of you.

    I’ve tried getting to your level-    

        But becoming someone that was created a 101 score years ago-

       Is tricky.

I’ve tried and tried and tried-

    Over and over and over again.

Yet I will never be you.

 I want to accept your existence- and cherish it-

    But let me perish the thought.