I cried when I saw the movie Prayers for Bobby. I felt so much like Bobby, and because I was almost at that breaking point, I tried to get my parents to watch it, but they wouldn’t have it. My dad had to get up and go for a drive when I told him what it was about and my mother just lit a cigarette and sat in the recliner, crossed her arms, and said, “So what, you like it up the ass?” I couldn’t drive at the time so I just walked down to the lake and fell to my knees on the beach, sobbing, digging my clenched fists into the sand. They had twisted the truth and made me believe that I was the one who had something wrong with him. It took some serious time and thinking, as well as several nights where I cried myself to sleep to realize that I was perfectly normal. They were the ones who had issues with not loving me for who I am. My dad grew even more distant and my mom grew more hostile. After a breakup with a long distance boyfriend, my world came crashing down because I had nowhere to turn. I’m just sorry it took a failed suicide attempt for my parents to realize how much their hatred was hurting me inside and out.
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