In the autumn of 2013, I still was a careless, 17-year-old high-school student. Life had to seem as a full of adventures and opportunities land for me, but in fact, it didn’t. There was a missing piece, which wouldn’t let me complete my puzzle of happiness. That missing piece was my freedom, my freedom to love somebody, my freedom to be what I am.
Being gay was not easy, it had never been easy, particularly in such a small town where new ideas cannot breathe long. However, I never felt it as a burden placed on my shoulders just at birth, I don’t even remember that moment to discover my orientation and then try to accept it. It was perfectly normal and natural for me, it was like I’ve always known what I was. But in that autumn happened something, which was made to change my life. Actually, It was me, who made it happen. My mother was my best friend, as my father ditched us long years ago, we both had to watch each other’s back.
I was a sum of her all hopes and expectations from life put together, but I had to disappoint her…I was aware of the risk I was taking, but I was a bold-tempered boy, after all. “If I am forbidden to tell even my mother about my feelings, then what is the meaning of living for me?” I had kept asking myself this question days before I did it. I told my mother about myself, but still I had a little grain of hope, that on behalf of her maternal love to me, she would accept me. She was a modern and open-minded woman, after all. Unfortunately, my expectations remained only as expectations… I was expelled out my home, she couldn’t accept what I was, not because she wasn’t capable to, but because she was afraid to know what everyone else in this little town would talk about me, her little son.
She never called me after that moment, I was capable of making a living, but I wasn’t able to live without my mother beside me.
