Monday, Monday...

...and reality's hit me. Hard.

To begin with, I had the most amazing weekend with my friends. We went to the mall, had dinner at a really cool Mexican place and went to the movies later to watch "Fired Up", which was so bad that it was actually good. After the movie, we all went back to Mark's house. His parents had gone on vacation for a week and were stupid enough to allow their teenage son to let his friends sleep over, the effect being that we first killed all the alcohol in their liquor cabinet before crashing on the floor of the living room. I woke up with the worst headache of my life the next morning. After we had all recovered a bit, we had the best time hanging out at the indoor pool and eating pizza.

I am truly amazed how well they have taken it. I haven't felt that comfortable around them for ages, and I really, really enjoyed not having to hide that huge part of myself anymore. They have been showering me with nothing but affection all weekend, obviously trying to be as supportive as possible, and I love them for that.

Well, all good things have to come to an end, I guess.

Because when I arrived at school today and walked towards my locker, I saw that a crowd had gathered in front of it. I had no idea what was going on and just kept on walking.

Then I saw it.

GO TO HELL, FAG!

Someone had sprayed it on my locker door in bold, red letters.

The crowd in front of it just stared at me, and I was frozen on the spot. I couldn't move forward, I couldn't run away, all I could do was stand there. I looked at all the faces and just wanted to scream at them that they should just go and leave me alone, so I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity until I heard someone approaching me from behind and felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Mark. He turned towards the crowd and shouted: "What? What are you looking at? Just leave him alone, for God's sakes!"

The bell rang and the crowd slowly dissolved, leaving Mark and me alone in the empty hallway. That's when I broke down. I just couldn't take it anymore. I sat down in front of my locker and started crying like a baby. I felt so, so ashamed. I felt ashamed for being gay, I felt ashamed for being presented as such to everyone, but most of all, I felt ashamed because I wasn't strong enough to just ignore those words on my locker.

Why can't I be out and proud and not be ashamed of who I am? Will I ever reach the point where I can face a situation like this and NOT break down, but hold my head up high, smile and go on with my day, knowing that they can't touch me?

I don't know.

What I know is that this is only the beginning. There's gonna be a lot more ahead.

I somehow made it through the rest of the day. Mark had helped me clean my locker door right away. But although the words on my locker were gone, all I could see in my mind while I sat through my classes today were those bold red letters.

When I close my eyes, I still see them now.

And I'm so scared.

Scratch that. I'm not scared.

I'm terrified.