roadblocks

I was in 10th grade when I lost my best friend. His family lived across the street from mine; so naturally, we became friends even before kindergarten. He was the best friend I could have – we were both interested in Lego, computers, video games, rollercoasters, and later on, graphics and animation and all those fun things. In high school our interests began to differ slightly when he started up a band in his garage and he began to develop different musical tastes. That was perfectly fine with me, because best friends don’t have to be the same. Some time after, we began to talk less frequently to the point where I no longer hung out at his place for hours a day like I had before. It was later that I found I no longer had a best friend because of who I was thought to be.

A new kid who moved to town and became a member of his band decided that I wasn’t like the other boys in our grade. Something pushed him to tell my friend that secret that even I didn’t want to confront. He asked his family for their thoughts, and they whole-heartedly agreed, and so our friendship ended. The past sixteen years had just proved to be a series of events that would lead to a dead end. Something so trivial as the thought of what might be has drastic results.

I thought, okay, that’s fine. If you’re not mature enough to remain friends even in light some new information, then it’s your loss not mine. Remember at this point I wasn’t even willing to look into what might be true, so hearing it from my best friend was horrible. My sisters always said that you find out who your real friends are in grade 10. In my case, I ended up finding that I didn’t have any real friends at all.

There were so many similar things that held me back in school. From grade 8 and on, I wanted to join choir. I knew I couldn’t because I might get that label put upon my head. Thankfully drama was the cool class to take, so I took it right along side the cool kids up until grade 11. Sure, I was called names in the hallways, and pushed around every now and then. I figured it didn’t apply because I wasn’t really gay. People aren’t really gay, I told myself. Not real people, not high school kids in the suburbs, and especially not good, well-trained Christian boys.

Everyone said to get involved in high school or else you’d regret it. In grade 12 I gave in and decided not to care. I joined choir, hung out with a great group of girls in between classes and at lunch, and finally enjoyed myself. I wasn’t any different than before, except for the fact that I didn’t care what anyone thought, except for myself. Choir ended up being the best class I had that year, and the instructor and classmates completely appreciated my talents. I only wished that I had joined earlier.

I still never talked about my problems in high school. I wasn’t ready to say it, and they weren’t ready to hear it. I read those articles now where being outwardly gay is like a ticket to popularity in schools today. I can’t believe that as little as 4 years ago it was still something that was perceived as wrong and degrading, at least for me. I often wonder if anything would have been different to be there today, or if I would still be just as cautious to reveal anything.

He talked to me near the end of grade 12 and told me the full reason our friendship ended. I don’t know if I expected it or not... all I remember is being very disappointed. We grew up together; his parents and siblings were like mine, and mine like his. How could something in me be so different and foreign that it constituted an end? Would I somehow infect his brain? Would part of me that I didn’t even recognize end up seducing him and bringing him over to the dark side? I didn’t understand, I was the same person I had always been. We hung out a couple times after he told me, but it wasn’t the same. We had already grown apart and were moving along on our separate paths.

There are so many things that can hold a person back. I just hope that someday this problem many of us face will no longer be a problem but rather a gift that can let us excel beyond what we thought was possible. At least that’s what I’m working towards. Whether or not I can even achieve it remains unclear...