picture perfect people

It... well, it wasn't about me necessarily.

It was about everyone like me, everyone who didn't fit their picturesque description of what a person was allowed to be.

It was the late-night, mental-claustrophobia-panic-attacks of "I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this..."

It was the fake smiles and the forced laughter when someone said a harmful joke.

It was the hypocrisy of worshipping loudly in public to stave off the breakdown that was going to happen a few minutes later.

It was the "God is tempting you, don't look at girls. It's disgusting and it's wrong and if anyone found out they would hate you."

It was seeing your friends make fun of the boy who liked to paint his nails and the girl who wore short skirts because they were sinful and immoral, and laughing alongside them even though all you wanted to do was go up to them and ask, "How do you do it? Where do you find the bravery?"

It was...

It was coming to the realization at a young age that God loves everyone except girls who like girls and boys who like boys, everyone except people like you.

They wanted a picture perfect person, but they got me instead. They wanted to change me and "fix" me and cut off all the pieces they didn't like, but I am not dough for them to take a cookie cutter to and create what they want. I'm not done hiding, but one day I will be, and that's when I will shine.