The Nightingale

Posted by BB | Labels: , , | Posted On 18 January, 2010 at Monday, January 18, 2010

I, Beloved Boyd, am a Gay Mormon Boy and everything I say here is the truth to the best of my knowledge:

After I came out to my family and left the psych ward I spent a Thanksgiving with Ethel’s family and it was great. Both of her parents are psychologists and because Ethel had told them about my attempted suicide and so I had several long discussions with them about everything. I didn’t come out to them but we still had a productive and fun Thanksgiving weekend that I was and am very thankful for. When I got back to Seattle I had Hayden waiting for me.

Now to be honest I don’t know what was going through Hayden’s mind. The night I took the pills I had tried to go out with Hayden but he had turned me down. I wonder if he felt guilted into spending time with me. Regardless of the possible guilt we started hanging out more and more. Before the attempt we had spent time watching Queer as Folk together while often cuddling and so we picked that up again.

We would spend our evenings together and it was good. I felt loved again. It was a great feeling that was tainted with the agony over still not knowing what God wanted me to do. At the oddest moments I would get hit with the agony. It was the same feeling you get when you are eating stir-fry and someone mentions to you how those wide Chinese noodles are actually pig intestines. I would lose my appetite for life faster than the surge of vomit you probably just felt.

Then one night Hayden and one of the other roommates decided to take me to see Milk. As we sat in the theatre I was riveted by the movie. Sure I enjoyed James Franco swimming naked in the pool, but what made the movie was the phone call from Altoona, Pennsylvania. The pain that the kid felt and the fear he spoke with instantly called back the agony of life. In that moment I was the kid in the wheelchair. I felt his pain, I lived his fear. I cried.

Throughout the rest of the movie I began to feel a purpose for living again. I no longer felt that my life was a plastic bag being blown about by the wind. I had a goal and a purpose for living and it fueled me with passion once more. I was going to come out further and further. The more people who knew someone who is gay, the more likely they are to lend support to those in need.

This newfound goal made me a bit happier and I stopped feeling the waves of agony hit me like a hurricane. And as a result, I started to get more adventurous with Hayden, but more on that tomorrow.

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