I guess I knew throughout my adolescent life that I was different. Although it took me until I was about 16 to come to terms with myself and start to accept the fact that I am gay. I had a good high school life, no one ever suspected anything. A lot of my friends were girls, so most people thought I dated them, which I didn't directly use as a coverup, but just let people believe what they wanted to believe.

It wasn't until after I graduated that wanting to come out became an issue. As I discovered myself more, how and what I was, I began to realize how important it was for me to not live a life of secrecy. As the issue arose more and more, the problem became how, and just who to tell first?? I wanted to be able to just sit down with my mom one day and tell her, but I knew that was not the way it would be. Little did I know, it wasn't going to go at all like I planned or could have planned.

The Internet became my outlet for information. I found stories of hope, mixed with stories of heartbreak. I knew my mom couldn't handle it well, but still there was that force inside of me that said it had to be done.

In the midst of all this, right after high school, I started working part time, and going to college cull time. Also, things between my mom and I took a turn for the worse. We argued constantly about everything, anything and even nothing. There rarely ever was a day there I didn't go to sleep upset or crying. Now the stress of work, school, home-life, and the emotions I was going through all weighed down on me heavily. It got so bad that I considered suicide at one point. When that happened, I knew something must be done soon.

I had been confiding in a friend of mine that lives in the city. He was very helpful to me and gave me comfort when I needed it. He helped me come out to my sister which made me feel so good. As things got progressively worse, my friend offered to let me stay with him. I saw this as my only escape, so it was decided that I was going to move to the city.

So one day while my mom was at work, my friend drove down, I packed most of my things in a few bags, bid farewell to my sister, left a note and went to the city. It was something no one would have ever expected me to do, but I did it. I had left, telling no one but my little sister. As it happened, my mom got the entire story out of my little sister, so I never got to tell my mom directly.

I didn't leave any clue as to where I was staying, but it didn't take any mom long to find me. The months that followed were filled with letters, phone calls and emails lathered with anger, regret, guilt trips, and sadness. I had burned many bridges with my family with what I had done. But through time, as it often happens, stronger bridges have been erected from the ashes of the former ones.

I don't think my coming out story really ends here. I believe it goes on with every new day of my life. It got easier for me after I became more aware and comfortable with myself. This is my story. . .