Thanksgiving bites royally.

There's something about heading into West Virginia to my overly religious family and hearing them bash gays and blacks that just makes me give thanks. Yes, I'm so thankful for my hateful, intolerant family.

They make me sick.

Honestly, I don't understand how I'm a part of that family. My brothers join right in with my cousins, and they do nothing but deride me for being an introvert... Maybe some day they will realize that I'm not an introvert, and that the only reason I don't socialize with them is because I don't like them.

So in order to maintain my countenance, I sat there reading. All day. I barely said 10 words beyond "Hello."

For many, Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks.

For me, it is a time to regret the family that I was born in.

I want to make them understand so badly, but it's just impossible for me to tell them that I'm gay. I know that they hate gay people. And I know how bad they would treat my mom (they seem to think that me and my two brothers are perfect, and if I told them this, they would harass and torture my mom with it, and in her fragile emotional state, she wouldn't be able to take it).

So I sit there, and I endure. Another year goes by, and I survive. I wish that some day they would learn the lesson of tolerance, but it doesn't look like it. My only consolation is that one day they will die and their stain will be lifted from the world.

That's honestly how I feel about them.

My great aunt Judy (the one who threw a knife at my mom when she was young) was discussing religion... and how you couldn't question the word of god, because that's your "earthly council", and you needed "godly council." She actually said that we could not use reason to understand the bible. I just couldn't believe it.

And as always, the worst part comes when everyone agrees.

The second worst feeling in the world - to watch dozens of people blindly follow unsound advice. I remember when I went to Billy and Anna's church, and the preacher said something about how the problem with the boy scouts was with the gay troop leaders (I don't even WANT to get started on THAT one...), and then I listened in horror to the echoing cries of "Amen".

Just so you know, the worst feeling in the world is when you're walking around, not wanting to live, not wanting to die, not wanting anything. I know that first hand, but fortunately, I'm not feeling it right now.

That's bad.


So long.