I Think It’s The Weather
FleetusMcGee posted in The F*-Word
By: Anonymous
t’s not that I wasn’t fed the proper amount of string beans when I was a newborn. I can’t use those as excuses. I don’t lack anything except for subtlety and, well, that’s not why I am who I am either. It’s not that I was born into a family that isn’t entirely “there,” and even though that very well could explain why I’m not altogether “here,” that too isn’t why I am who I am. It can’t be blamed on my habit of staying up until midnight; turning the radio dial until I find a song that no one’s heard since the late eighties, by a band that no one’s heard from since their last attempt at a reunion tour in the early nineties. All that really does is give me red puffy eyes and although that does explain the reason why people believe I smoke more then I actually do, that isn’t the reason why I am who I am. It couldn’t be that in fourth grade I bought a ceramic miniature of a duck and pretended to be married to it for half the year or that I broke it when I punched a kid in the stomach when he told me that Santa wasn’t real and the poor ceramic duck crushed in my fist. Although that duck does explain why I think of ducks whenever anyone suggests Christmas. It could be explained by my family’s history, but no one in my family tells the real truth about what they’ve done and about the history they’ve made. It can’t be any of these things even though they all contributed to form me into who I am, and they still do.
The only reason that I can think of is that when my mother was pregnant with me she slipped on a patch of ice and fell down knocking a strand of my developing DNA out of place, thus ensuring that I would forever be the way that I am. So the way that I am can’t be explained by my mother or father’s parenting skills—or by my lack of green beans. It can be blamed on a piece of ice. In fact that’s how I respond to people when they ask me why I am the way that I am – all I can fathom to say is “I think it’s the weather.”
I shouldn’t even have to think about why fate had placed that piece of ice so dangerously close to my mother’s pregnant feet. I should be able to accept the way fate wanted me. I shouldn’t have to fight everyday to be proud of something as trivial as my sexual orientation. Having to fight for that seems to me almost as ridiculous as having to fight for your right to live because of your ethnicity, or eye color. I should be able to blindly accept it, realize that I was made this way and be able to embrace it. So I’m telling you right now, I’m gay in two senses: I’m attracted to men and I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. And I don’t need a reason for who I am. Even if I’m almost positive that it’s the weather.
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