Are You There?
Are You There? lgbt stories
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femmanist
femmanistCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
growing up gay and catholic is one of the hardest things i've ever done. i wrote this after i came out for the first time at 16.

Are You There?

when I was a little girl, I loved to go to church

I felt so close to you,

and so special

knowing that you loved me so uniquely and unquestionably.

they told me you loved everybody,

because you created everybody.

you created us to be beautiful, and to be good, and to love.

but then I loved wrong.

and suddenly I was part of the exceptions.

"god loves everybody."

"god hates fags."

suddenly I became a part of the "others"

the ones we don't talk about,

the ones with "some exclusions apply" tattooed across their foreheads

for you to look down upon and scorn.

the ones who you don't love anymore

because we loved the wrong person.

I can't go to church anymore.

because of the eyes.

hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of eyes.

dark, unforgiving pits of judgement

made just the way you intended

searing into me like an iron to my skin.

they know.

they have to know that I'm wrong.

I'm dirty.

I'm infecting them.

"god hates fags"

"we hate you."

everything I touch becomes ashes

everything I look at becomes fire.

"the sign of peace." my hands clasp with a woman hiding a demon behind her smile.

if only she knew.

I see her recoil from my touch as though she was burnt by a walking piece of hell.

"peace be with you."

but I am only calm when I am far away from here

because I can never find peace with you.

right?

"the body of christ."

the amen is poison from my lips

because they touched hers,

and the body of christ becomes flavorless. just bread,

disintegrating and melting

leaving you motionless and gasping for air.

you can't find a foothold in a body that's betrayed you.

and then I'm kneeling before you.

my father.

begging you to fix me.

because I am wrong.

I am broken.

"god hates fags."

do you hate me?

you washed over me as a baby,

the water masking my innocent impurity

and reveling in my cherubic beauty.

until I was 16

and scarred by the brightness of her smile

that broke through your seal and damned me to hell.

I was whisked away by the currents of her voice,

snatched from the rivers of your baptism

and made to love a sin.

do you hate me?

"god hates fags."

they hate my soul

because I love her.

{e.k}

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