The Open Door He sat across the table, eyes shining like lapis, staring at the two figures on the other side, awaiting a response. They seemed oblivious, shocked by the words that they had heard but moments ago, wondering if he had been joking when he had said: “I’m gay.” There had been rumours flying like mosquitoes for weeks. I had always swatted them away, or squashed them while they bit me, but after almost a whole month, I began to feel as though they were draining my belief for nourishment. Now, as I saw beside the dark-brown haired, bright blue eyed figure of my brother, wondering what was going to happen and what my parents sitting across from us would say … “It might just be a phase”, she defended. My mother always has been afraid of change. “No mum”, my brother rebutted, “I know that I’m this way and nothing anyone says is going to change that”. Cailean has always been a headstrong person. He always does just what he wanted to do; he has ambition, and is not afraid to speak his mind. He’s not too impartial to punching or kicking me when I annoy him. The room remained quiet for what seemed to be eons. My mind was in turmoil, spinning like a roulette wheel, and all the while I wondered where the ball would stop in the whirling stream of emotions. As I sat between the three of them, feeling like some sort of mediator or high-court judge with gavel poised, I began to wonder how my parents would react to this astonishing revelation. I had, of course, heard about parents who had been accepting of their children’s sexuality. Conversely, to my great chagrin, I had heard far more accounts of parents who had thrown their “deviant” offspring out, disowning them, ostracising them and fooling themselves into thinking they had never existed. Time seemed suspended in the room, abandoning its metronomic pulse and all the while torturing me, mocking me, forcing me to wait, and wait, and wait … “Well, Cailean, I’m a realist”, my father said, shattering silence’s barricade on the a thousand hopeful shards. “It’s not exactly perfect, nor will it be easy, but I don’t care who you love, as long as you love them for who they are”, he resolved. My mother nodded, still with a slightly incredulous look on her face. In my mind, the judge brought down his gavel, deeming my brother innocent. The roulette wheel stopped at acceptance and I won a bonus of gladness and relief. The mosquitoes were eradicated by the deadly disease of understanding and time once again began its sixty per minute drumbeat … … And time goes on, and still goes on. As I write this, Cailean has just come back from a trip to America where he was visiting his boyfriend. And you know what? Good for him! The events from that night still echo redolent in my mind, and as frantic as I was and as unpleasant the mix of emotions were, I learned something that night. Be yourself. I don’t care what others say. I don’t care what rumours people start about me. I don’t care what religious doctrine, or governmental policy, or social taboos reflect upon me. This is my life. I’ll be who I want to be, and if society doesn’t like that then I don’t care a jot! I want to be me, not some person modelled on ignorance, social stereotype and bias. They can’t change me, only I have that power. I don’t care what others say, I’ll live my life for me. This is my story.
This was very beautifully executed. I think it denotes a certain innocence, yet a complete use of extensive vocabulary. I congratulate you for that. It's short to the point, and I think that's good. I also congratulate your brother, for being brave and besides popular belief, setting a transparent example. And your parents for being understanding and open. Very nice short piece.
Thanks a lot ^_^. This is an essay for my Higher English which in America is like Junior Year of High School I think. 16-17 year olds. EDIT: Why is no-one commenting ;.;.
