Thank You

I am thankful for who I am, for what God has made me become. I believe that He knows I am strong that He made me as someone whose emotions would be put to test in more ways than what this society call the “norm” gets.

I am thankful for the family He has given me, most especially for my mom who never questions what I am. She knew it from the start and has always been my strength. She may not have encouraged me to be (more of) what I am, but she has never criticized what I’ve become.

I am thankful for the few true friends that I have. I’d never trade them for a million friends who would only be there for the good times. True friends are the ones who are happy for you when you’re at the top, but will be the firsts to catch you when you fall, even without asking them to.

I am thankful for the bullies in school, the bullies in my neighborhood, and the bullies I bump into when I go out. These people made me a stronger person through the years and continue to make me stronger as they continue to bully me.

I am thankful that God made me gay in a society that condemns same-sex relationships. Not that I am against same-sex marriage; not that I don’t want to have a boyfriend without getting condemning stares from people around. But I am thankful in a way that I will never marry and will be able to live with my mom and take care of her until she grows older and needs someone to take care of her. There’s no nicer way to give back for the unconditional love she has given me, and continue to give me, up until now.

I believe that there’s always something to be thankful for in everything that’s happening in our lives. I believe that God loves all of us so much that He will never let anything happen to us without a reason.

We just have to dig in and find light in every situation, no matter how “bad” they may seem.

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The Rain

I woke up around 6 and had to look again at the clock to make sure I alarmed it right. It’s gloomy outside. It looked like a good rain was about to fall. And we needed that.

I was doing some chores when it started to drizzle. Lovely. Yesterday’s scorching heat was rewarded with a drizzle today. God loves us, yes.

The rain always reminds me of high school, heartaches, and longing. Not that the other two happened when I was in high school. Heartaches came later in life. Beyond college.

Rain reminds me of when I had to leave the house on a rainy morning during high school. Not that I was afraid of the rain and the traffic, but I didn’t wanna leave my mother behind, alone in our house, during the rain.

I still couldn’t figure that one out until now. But I always wanna be with my mother when it rains. Perhaps because I’m afraid – for myself and for my mom. Afraid of what? Beats me.

I still feel that way. But now it’s not just leaving my mom behind during rainy days that makes me feel down when it’s gloomy and raining. Rains also remind me of my very first heartache. And everytime it rains, visions of Fred and I sitting on the sidewalk near our house while I was crying come flooding back. I was pleading for him to stay when it started raining. And it rained hard. But neither of us cared to leave. We somehow knew it was our last conversation. And I wanted to make it last as long as I can. For his reason of not leaving despite the rain, beats me. Perhaps he was just being polite and didn’t wanna leave me there alone, crying.

Fred moved a few months after the break-up. And he is married now. We saw each other again last year due to a tragic incident. His twin, Freddie, died while working in a Taiwanese ship. I saw it on television. He came here to tell us about it weeks after the news.

I became close to Freddie years after they moved out. And that’s the goodness of not changing numbers. Old friends can contact you without a hassle.

And it was through Freddie that I got to know his twin was already married. But Freddie and I were never an item. I didn’t like him in that way, and I’m kinda sure his feeling was mutual. But we would meet on occasions, And the last time I saw him was when he met me at the church one Sunday. Yea the church became our meeting place that Sunday. I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d see him.

Longing came after the heartache. I guess it’s normal. And I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I long for a smooth and warm human body beside me on the bed when it rains. But believe me when I say that it’s not purely sex that I long for. It’s the feeling of security, of being loved, and of comfort.

But then I guess a warm body next to mine on a bed won’t happen anymore. After all, my solitude is inevitable.

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