My Darkest Hour Part 3 - A Cry for Help

Posted by BB | Labels: , | Posted On 06 January, 2010 at Wednesday, January 06, 2010

As a gay mormon boy I wish I would have known about the Trevor project so I could have called them for help.
I, Beloved Boyd, am a Gay Mormon Boy and everything I say here is the truth to the best of my knowledge:


After I called my mom I took more Lortab. Perhaps as a cry for help or perhaps as an attempt to be remembered, I texted a friend, another Gay Mormon Boy who is now on his mission. He immediately called me back and tried bravely to get my address so he could send an ambulance. I resisted but stayed on the phone with him. As the first two Lortab kicked in, so did the fear of what I had done. I realized that I was about to end it all. I was taking the “final solution” as it were. I knew I had to stop it, to get myself better but I feared the police and ambulances.

I had flashbacks to when my mother pretended to take pills and was taken to the hospital. So instead of telling my friend to send an ambulance I asked him. I tried to ask if the Lortab I had taken meant I needed my stomach pumped. What came out was “Did I take enough? Did I take enough to kill me?”

My roommate heard and sprung into action. He knew I had been acting weird but as soon as he knew what was going on he tried to grab my phone. I struggled but my roommate and my friend connected. My roommate took out his phone and I saw him dial 3 numbers as he went to speak to our other roommate to see if we needed to get my stomach pumped.

I always feared the cherries and berries of a cop car and for any gay mormon boy, the cops can be frightening.
That is when I sprung into action. I jumped up out of bed fearing the police and medics. I ran out the door and to the stairwell. Knowing that my roommate would suspect me to go down, I went up two floors in our building. I ran down the hall and into one of the laundry rooms where I wept and slept off most of the drug. It took about 2 hours, but after the police showed up and my friends started searching, Hayden found me.

I was alone in the laundry room and Hayden walked in and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found me. He hugged me and told me that he cared for me. He then led me downstairs towards the waiting search team of my friends and police.

Imagine my luck at finding one of the few gay cops on the the force as a gay mormon boy struggling with his life.
I was given a choice to go willingly or to be forcibly taken to the hospital and so I choose to go willingly. I sat in the car and talked with a gay policeman who seemed determined to tell me that I had so much to live for; that being gay wasn’t the end of the world; that I was cute and had so much to look forward to. What he couldn’t understand was that I was fine being gay. It was dealing with the Church and my sexuality that was driving me insane.

When at last our talk had ended I was lying in a hospital bed under observation, my cry for help had been answered.

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There are 3 Words of Warning for My Darkest Hour Part 3 - A Cry for Help