I Am Different, 2016
This written entry into Expression 2016, “I Am Different,” was entered by Jasmine Nguon
Bullied. Different. Suicidal. Misunderstood.
I am different. When people hear, they look at me like I have a third eye, like I have no nose, like I’m a monster. People give me weary glances, scared to go near me as if this is a disease and they don’t want me to contaminate them. They look at me like I’m dumb, like I chose this.
I didn’t.
I was born this way. I can’t control my feelings, I can’t stop what I am.
And I shouldn’t have to. That’s what I think. That isn’t what my parents think. My parents think I have ruined my life. They think I have chosen to be different, they think I have a choice. They have disowned me. I am not their child anymore. They think I have made a decision that means I am not worthy of being their child.
But I did not choose. Sometimes I wish I could choose, so that I could change and be normal and everything would be simple.
But it’s not. People don’t understand. They think that when it comes to these things, it is your decision and you have to live with the consequences. So I don’t understand, because I did not choose so why do I have to live in hell everyday for something that I did not choose but everyone thinks I did.
Life would be so simple, if I was like everyone else. People will constantly tell me this, trying to get me to change. “If you just go back to like you were before you decided to change, like everyone else is, everything will come so much easier. What you have chosen, it is not natural and it is not right.”.
My best friend, she is no more. Because she is Christian. No, not because she is Christian, I am Christian, and I accept myself. Her parents, they are against people of my kind. So naturally, she is too. When she found out, she gave me a choice. I could be her friend, or I could choose to be what I am. I couldn’t deny who I am, so I am no longer her friend. But if she couldn’t accept me for who I am deep down, was she ever really a friend?
I am different
I stand, the wind blowing through my hair, I am different.
The ground so far, the end so close, and I am still different.
The rain so cold, the air so icy, as I stand here, different.
I scream and scream until I can scream no more, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am different.
I dream of the end, I dream of this being no more, I dream of the day that I am not different.
You teased me, you mocked me, you made my life a living hell, because I am different.
You gave me more scars than you will ever see, because most of them are in my head.
Those insults leave fresh wounds, will scar me forever, as I am different.
My mind a terrible place, dark enough to make a grown man cry, because I am different.
I chose my end, I chose my pain, I chose to be different.
In your eyes, I have a disease.
In your eyes, I am contagious.
In your eyes, I am different.
All my imperfections, all my emotions, all of me, is swept away with the wind.
I can fly, I can soar, I am free to be different.
I am no longer in pain, I am no longer taunted, I no longer have to smile to stop the tears from falling or laugh so people think I am ok.
I no longer have to pretend to be like you or pretend I am normal or pretend to not be who I am.
Who am I?
I am gay.
But gay I am no more, as I am dead.
I am nothing.
Yet, to you, I will always be different.
“I have depression, and in Intermediate I was bullied. I know that LGBT people are often bullied as people think they are different. I know how hurtful words can be, and I know they are powerful enough to end lives. I have attempted to transfer my thoughts down onto a piece of paper so people know that words can hurt more than physical pain, and they can make us believe that life isn’t worth living. But it is. Just not all of us see this in time.“