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yeah so i wasn't successful. homework sucks. instead, i've been thinking about a long time ago, so i figured i may as well write about it...

my 4th grade teacher's name was miss rosen. she was this beautiful young woman, and i had a crush on her without knowing that that's what it was called. up until 4th grade, the only positive things my teachers had said about me was that i had a lot of potential. i got good grades, but i had 'no motivation,' 'no attention span,' and was a 'distraction to myself and others.' basically, i was lazy and got into trouble a lot. and then came miss rosen. and i liked her. and i wanted to make her happy. and all of a sudden, i worked at school. i would read ahead just so i could make astute observations, and ask intelligent questions. i did my homework as soon as it was assigned. my eagerness to learn pleased miss rosen, so i wanted to learn even more. she taught me bits and pieces of 5th and 6th grade math, becuase i was curious. and i was curious becuase my curiosity pleased her. it was this wonderful cycle that turned me into the best student in the class, and broke me out of the rut i had set for myself in the previous years. miss rosen couldn't understand my previous teachers' problems, and my previous teachers couldn't understand the new me. my parents weren't at all bothered by any of this. they knew i would 'grow up' someday, and had no idea that my change of attitude didn't really come about becuase of the whole 3 months i had aged since the end of 3rd grade, when i was in the principal's office every other week...

so one night, 4 or 5 months into the school year, i was laying in bed thinking about miss rosen and how much i liked her. all of a sudden, a frightening though occurred to my little 10-year-old mind. what if i was gay? 'gay' was a term that i barely even knew the definition of, but i knew it was a bad thing, and it involved liking people of the same sex. with this disturbing thought in my mind, i had no hope of sleeping. so i did what i did any time i had a problem. i got out of bed, went downstairs, and asked my mom, 'mom, what if i'm gay?'
she let out this exasperated sigh and said 'honey, don't be silly. do you want to kiss amber?'
amber was my best friend at the time, and no, i didn't want to kiss her. i was 10, for pete's sake. i didn't have fucking hormones yet. i didn't want to kiss anyone. i just had innocent schoolgirl crushes on female adults, that's all. but i didn't realize any of this. all i knew was that i didn't want to kiss amber. so i answered 'no.'
my mom said 'then you're not gay. now go to bed.'
and that was that. i wasn't gay becuase i didn't want to kiss amber. i wasn't gay becuase my mom said i wasn't gay. i was a stupid little kid and i believed her. and for almost 3 more years, the thought never again entered my mind. or if it did, i would quickly dismiss it. i wasn't gay becuase my mom had said i wasn't, and she knew everything. it wasn't until the beginning of 7th grade that i actually seriously considered the thought again, and over the course of that year and the next, came to realize that no matter what my mom had told me when i was 10, i was, indeed, gay.

i guess i have to give my mom a little credit here. i was quite the little insomniac at age 10. it took me hours to fall asleep, and i really didn't have much patience. so every night, i was in and out of bed 2 or 3 times, getting drinks of water or asking any question i could think to ask to my mom or dad. any excuse i could think of to get out of bed was good enough for me. so really, it was kind of like the boy who cried wolf... i can understand why she didn't take me seriously... but it still bothers me. what if? what if she had asked 'why do you ask that?' she knew i liked miss rosen, but what if i had tried to explain how much i liked miss rosen? what if we had had a serious conversation about my sexuality right then, before i was old enough to consider that maybe parents don't need to know every single thing about you? the second i realized that i could be in the closet, i was ready to come out of it, and i haven't been ready since. why? why did i have to get out of bed every night? why couldn't she have understood that this question was for real, even if all the others were just lame excuses to move around? how different could my life be now if i had told my parents that day, way back in 4th grade? it frustrates me to think about what might have been... if only... sigh... this time i'm really going to do homework, i mean it.