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Over The Edge
Nothing is as easy as it sounds.
I told her that I liked her and she just shunned me away like I was some piece of garbage. And to anyone who ever said to “just do it” has clearly never tried to turn a straight woman lesbian.
I love her.
She hates me.
Nothing else to it. Unless you count the fact that I can’t sleep at night because I’m always thinking about how much I screwed up by telling her I have this huge crush on her.
Then there’s a bit more to it.
Online relationships don’t really work out. Your changes lower when you can’t see them. Your changes lower even more when they’re not even interested in you in the first place.
“But hey, look at the bright side,” they always told me. What bright side? Unless you mean suicide, then yeah, the bright side! ‘Cause I’ll go into the light! I’m not afraid anymore! I’ll do it! And no one’s going to stop me.
Facing the facts is always the hardest. Trying to tell someone you don’t feel the same way is a bit harder because it’s the stone-cold truth. Actually delivering the words to them is completely heart breaking to the person receiving the news.
I just got my heart broken before my first girlfriend.
This is life, people.
This is the real world.
I told Florence Vailey that I liked her. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember. We’ve been through our happiest moments and our saddest moments. She’s saved me from suicide once or twice and I’ve saved her from a lot of different fights. We need each other.
But the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I told her I liked her almost sent me over the edge with rage. I could instantly tell that when I said “like,” her body repulsed against me. Then she told me she didn’t like me back and that I was a disgusting queer. That she was straight, not gay. She made it sound like I was her worst enemy.
Never in my life had I heard such an awful thing come from one of my friends before. So that me start questioning the world and what it’s worth. What being gay actually means. If I’m a walking, talking, breathing sin for liking the same gender. If God is punishing me for being gay. If God is even real. If any of us are even real! I was just in such a low state that I picked up a knife and… and I…
I tried to cut my throat.
Blood dripped down my hands were I had put them on my throat. So I just thought to myself that the end was coming. That I would finally be free of all sin and no one would make fun of me anymore.
Yet I lived.
My mom found me and took me to the hospital where they signed me up for an emergency psychiatrist. After I saw him, he prescribed me medication for severe depression. Then I was put into a ward for about two weeks while I “recovered.” I had to be monitored all the time and everything there was made out of foam or something ‘cause it was impossible to do anything but stand there!
After a while, Florence came to visit. She heard what happened to me and wanted to say that she was sorry for what she had said.
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” I told her. “You’re the reason why I’m here. You called me the q-word that you know I hate and then walked off like nothing happened while I sat there and cried! I TRIED TO SLIT MY THROAT BECAUSE OF YOU!” Everything in my body felt like fire.
“I’m still sorry. And I knew it was wrong but at the moment I wasn’t thinking and I—”
“Yeah. You weren’t thinking. You were just going along with what everyone else said and how everyone else felt about me! Well guess what? I’m done! I’m done! I hate this world and I hate you!” I started to pull out my hair, ripping little chunks out as I went. The nurses came in with a needle and stuck it in my arm.
I soon fell asleep to Florence’s crying.
After I served my time in the ward, my mom monitored me constantly. She would check me for any new bruises or marks on me every morning and every evening. It was like being a puppet without strings. I was free, but under control all at the same time.
One day at school, about a month out of the ward, I went up to Florence. I had been ignoring her the whole time and she just couldn’t handle it. I could hear it in the way that she talked that she missed me as much as I hated her.
“What do you want?”
I hugged her. “I know you didn’t mean it and for me to hate you for it isn’t right.”
Her grip tightened. “Thank you,” she said as I felt her tears hitting my back.
I broke the hug and I held her gaze. I was going to kiss her but I remembered that she was straight. So I just kissed her on the cheek and left.
I was finally happy for once in my life.