Sometimes I’m just tired, honestly so fucking tired. It’s especially hard being an Asian lesbian who is neither butch nor femme, people can’t relate to it even more than being a butch lesbian, as they can categories it together in the lesbian binaries, know what I mean? It’s really hard to explain, because no, I actually doesn’t have a clue at all about homosexuality, all my life I haven’t been exposed a lot to it. So naturally, I rarely label myself as much.
It gets even more tiring, because I belong to a community or society that doesn’t recognizes the age 18 or 21 to be a fully grown adult who are allowed and respected to make their own choices in life regardless what their family or the older generations or neighbors would think, like in the U.S or Europe, or something. In my traditional family, we do it differently. THE SACRED FAMILY NAME AND IMAGE MEANS MORE THAT LOVE AND/OR HAPPINESS.
In all my 22 years, I had to suppress my real feelings and thoughts, in my mind I kept thinking “control the gay, control the gay”. I’m soooo tired, I lie so well to everyone I know, that sometimes I started believing it myself. I honestly wanna kill myself but I’m too scared. My only and ultimate wish is to be numb. Although to be fair, if I was granted a wish, I wanna live in a world where homosexuality is not at all a problem.
I wanted to see a therapist, to tell a soul, to ease the pain, but my country is still an early developing country, where the power of psychologists or psychiatrists or rehabs are still questionable, plus if my relatives found out that I’m seeing a therapist, my parents would freak out and it would just add up to my list of problems.
My close friends all knew me, they had my back and everything, problem is they all live in different countries (I was studying abroad for most of my life, which was the best few years of my life), I would’ve lived outside too if it weren’t for my mother and sister who begged me to come back and take over the family business. So basically, I’m all alone here, I have no one to talk to but this blog. Back then, I didn’t know living here would be this fucked up.
Now, every time I go out, my parents would check up on me, asking every detail of how my day went (to know if the girl I’m close with was with me), asking the names of every people I’m out with (hoping that I’d go out with boys), and when I arrive home, they’d would deliberately open the door to see who droped me off (to see if I was indeed out with the people I mentioned earlier to them).
IF ONLY I KNEW THEN WHAT I’M FACING TODAY, I would never even considered coming back home… Isn’t it sad? home doesn’t feel like home to me. Every single day, every single minute and second, I have to pretend to be someone else. There comes a time where it gets easier, when my parents are traveling (rarer than seeing a flying fish), or when my little brother is home (he usually had my back, even though he doesn’t talk much), but that’s it…
I wanna be numb. I just wanna be taken away from all the madness. I’m out on the edge about to lose my mind