I remember going to church, wondering why I was there.
I remember lighting the entire church up in laugher after taking a sip wine from the golden amulet glass at my First Communion and making a face in disgust.
I remember stoping the car, rolling down the passenger window where my father was sitting, and telling him to apologize for saying “look at those gays” from inside the car.
I remember pretending to like girls, thinking I could somehow change.
I remember not buying those clothes because of what my parents would think.
I remember buying those clothes because I did not care what anyone would think.
I remember pointing, aiming, and shooting a gun in a back-country Texas shooting range. I remember hating every bit of it.
I remember asking myself why there was a pizza restaurant in Chinatown.
I remember my close family friends dressing me up as a Disney princess, then laughing at me.
