Well, here it goes.

Let's go back to when I was 16. This was a time of great turmoil in my life. I began to question some fairly fundamental things about who I am. The main two of which were my religion and my sexuality. We'll skip over the reasons, but in the end, I dropped my religion.

This opened new doors for me, doors that let me see who I really was. I was now able to drop my facade of asexuality to myself, and admit that I was gay. Though I had subconciously known it all along, I finally came to terms with it.

Because of the family I live in; very religious, and closed minded; I have yet to come out to them. Keep this in mind throughout the rest of my story. It'll help you understand how hard this has really been for me. I have had no one to share my joys with, and no one to pick me up when I fall. I've been alone for two years, lying to everyone around me.

Now zoom ahead. About 4 and a half months ago I met this guy. Lets call him Mark. We met in a club in downtown Calgary called Tantra, which is, suprisingly for the situation, not a gay club. We really hit it off, and a week or so later, we were going out.

Life was good. It would be fair to say that the next two and a half months were the best months of my life. Mark was the first person I really opened up to, and fully trusted. He was the first person I kissed, first person I saw naked, and first person I slept with. He was the only person I could be completely honest with, about everything, without fear of disgust. We completed eachother in ways I never thought possible.

Then, two weeks after out two month anniversery, came the worst day of my entire life. I possed into his house, as I was in the area, and found him in bed with another man. The one person I had trusted with everything had betrayed me in a simple act of lust. At that moment I realized how hollow his "I love you's" were, as we cuddled in front of the TV. How fake his persona with me was. I was crushed.

In utter shock, I walked out of the room, after a long yelling match. I couldn't focus on anything other than what had happened. I can't count how many times I almost dies driving home. Not that I cared. When I got home, I went straight to my romm and cried for hours. In that time, I seriously contemplated suicide. Life no longer mattered, as I had half of me ripped away that day.

After a few weeks, I started to recover. My need to live returned, if only to prove to him what a mistake he had made by leaving me. By god, I was going to make him regret it. I was stronger than he thought, and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of ruining my life. I continued to live, though everything was still painted in a different light, as only a tough breakup can cause.

Two months later, I thought it was over. All evidance of him was gone, and I had moved on. Then he sent me an e-mail. He had dedicated the song "Let it Die" by Three Days Grace to me. I cried. I contemplated suicide again. It was here that a good friend really helped me. I rushed straight for her support after I recieved the e-mail. In my time talking to her, I came to accept the need to destroy Mark will always have directed at me, and I have learned not to care.

It's been about a week since then, and I have started to smile again. The world is no longer painted in dark shades. Though it will be a long time before I love again, I have started to heal.

This post is probably the hardest thing I have ever done. I really don't care if anyone replies, as long as someone else knows. Someone else understands. That will make me happy.

God, it took me almost an hour to write this. I had to stop every once in a while to cry. It was worth it though.

FP

EDIT: I realized one thing I forgot to add. To make things worse with my family, I am a fur. Mine is a panther. That is irrelevant though. Especially with family. Not only am I gay, but I also identify with an animal more than I do with people.