The bell rings. 

I’m sitting in my second class of the day. The hands of the clock point to 10:30.

Each day starts the same: stand for the pledge of allegiance, small talk with our table group, saying “here” when our name is called out.

And then we play the ball toss game.

The rules are simple: when the ball is passed to you, respond to the icebreaker question of the day.

Favorite foods. Dream travel destinations. Biggest pet peeves. The question is never the same, and it is never difficult to answer.

But today is different.

Today’s question: “What is your biggest fear?”

I’m unsure of how to respond.

I listen to the other answers: spiders, heights, man-eating clowns. 

I’m not scared of any of those things.

________________________

I’m scared to look my father in the eyes and tell him I’m gay. 

I’m scared he’s lying to me when he tells me that he accepts me, and that deep down he really is disappointed in who I am.

I’m scared that he meant it when he told me that watching America’s Next Top Model with my mom when I was little “turned me gay.”

I’m scared of my sister being teased for having a gay older brother, or that my younger cousin feels embarrased going to school with her gay relative.

I’m scared of my future kids being ashamed to have two dads.

I’m scared to make people uncomfortable. That’s why, when I was on the cross country team, I would drive home to shower after practice instead of using the locker room with everyone else.  I was almost late to school every day, but it was better than making everyone else feel uneasy. 

I’m scared to use the school restroom when other people are in it.

I’m scared to tell my friends that they shouldn’t be using the word “faggot.” I don’t want them to think I’m overly sensitive, and I don’t want them to feel like they have to watch their words around me. 

I’m scared that loving someone will always be a challenge. I wonder if I’ll ever have a soulmate, if I will always feel as lonely as I do now. 

I’m scared to go on dates to restaurants with the one I love, post Instagram pictures with the one I love, go to school dances and football games with the one I love, hold hands with the one I love.

I’m scared that straight guys feel uncomfortable around me. I’m worried that on school trips, they won’t want to share a hotel room with me. Worried they won’t want to high five me, shake my hand, talk to me in class or sit next to me during lunch.

I’m scared to sit in church next to my family and hear the pastor talk about homosexuality. I’m scared he will say that I am committing an immortal sin and that I will go to hell. I’m terrified of the people who hold up anti-gay protest signs being right: that God really does disapprove of me and that I am going against His will. 

I’m scared that I’m a failure. I’m afraid that the rest of my successes and achievements in life will never make up for who I am. I don’t want to be different. I don’t want special treatment. I want to be normal.

And now that I’ve come out, I’m scared I’ll never get that chance.

I don’t say any of this when the deflated ball gets passed to me during second period.

Instead, I say that I’m scared I am insane and that I just don’t know it.

One day, these fears will not be as controlling as they are now. One day soon, things will get better. They always do.

But for now the class laughs at my answer, and I laugh along with them. It’s easier that way.