Lesbian.
Gay.
Dyke.
Dyke.
Dyke.

She keeps her head down as people sneer at her, she’s only trying to walk to her next class in peace. Her baggy jacket hides the scars littering her arms and the hood masks the look of utter pain etched onto her face.

“Hey!” Someone calls at her, but she does not know who, “how bout I let you borrow my girlfriend if you return your clothes to the men’s section?”

It was a poor attempt to hurt her, but it did, nonetheless. She moved her feet faster, trying to avoid the people in the cruel jail she knew as high school, but they would never go away. The taunting would never go away.

It wasn’t always so hard, she remembered, back when she wasn’t sure what her hormones were telling her. It wasn’t always so hard when she was in the closet, so far back she thought she was in Narnia. It was when she emerged from the darkness that a spotlight shined down onto her, that people took notice. She was no longer the smiling girl with all the friends, but the lesbian that you had to stay away from. After all, you don’t want to catch their disease, right?

When she came out, she lost the majority of her friends, and the self-mutilation started. She didn’t do it for attention, as her classmates thought, but she did it because it proved that she was awake. The pain made it real. The pain made sure she was still alive. Well, until her parents started screaming at the blood stains on the bathroom floor.

Flash. Ten months later, and she’s starting to come out of her shell. She’s starting to gain friends who aren’t afraid of her. She’s starting to connect with people she never thought she’d see again. She’s starting to walk through the halls, laughing as people try to degrade her. She isn’t the pathetic one, she smiles to herself, they are. She’s starting to smile and laugh, and wear short-sleeved shirts, revealing the scars that she once tried so hard to hide.
But why hide your hardships if they make you who you are? Why hide your troubles when it shows that you were able to grow past them and more importantly, survive.

I was incredibly lucky to reconnect with my once childhood friend and enemy. I was incredibly lucky to see the person she had become. I am incredibly lucky to have a friend so comfortable in her own skin, that she doesn’t need praise to smile, only people to share her smile with.

I am lucky to know someone as brave and as kind as my very close friend, The Lesbian.

Lesbian.
Gay.
Strong.
Brave.
Alive.