Skeletons in the Closet
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Warning: Themes of female homosexuality, but no sex, violence or offensiv language. But if you're homphobic, turn away now.
After completing my essay on the theories underlying in Morgana's "Magic Moreover "I slouch downstairs like the archetypal fed up teen. And I am fed up. No normal teen life for me, no way. Instead I get a load of problems and no solution but to talk about them to people. But who? My parents, though they love me, just don't seem the right people. There's only one friend I feel I completely trust, and yet I don't want to tell her to be met with a blank face and a changed attitude.
But for all my problems, I'm just about floating near the deeply unattractive light fitting. I'm in love. And not your typical teenage love either, I guess. I've been chatting to the person all night, on Instant! Messenger.(Which, by the way is a brilliant invention. I miss computers so much when I'm at school.) In between my essay, of course. But the catch? I cant discuss this excitedly over lunch with my closest friend, or blush over questions about them from my family. Because, until I solve this problem, this relationship, in effect, can't exist outside of me and them.
I really never felt this way before. So i'm only fifteen. Who cares? Well, I've been in love before, I guess. But it really wasn't a pleasant experience. More crying and pondering pleading with him than telling each other we loved each other. But this....this is different. But if I want this to be real, then I have to stop being so selfish and get it over with. My parents? My parents. Of course, I'll tell them first. I put my hand on the doorhandle and grip maybe a little too tightly. Deep breath. Then I go in .
'Mum? Dad? Can I talk to you both?" They look up, and mum nudges my dad with her foot. With a somewhat exasperated look, he switches off Coronation Street. It's slightly discerining having a Dad that's addicted to soap operas and talk shows. "Yes, Herm?" "I need to tell you something. Please don't interrupt, I think I just need to talk at you then liten to you when I'm finished." They nod, and I prepare to give them what is probably the biggest shock since they found out Mum was pregnant. Or maybe that I had a place at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Warning: Themes of female homosexuality, but no sex, violence or offensiv language. But if you're homphobic, turn away now.
After completing my essay on the theories underlying in Morgana's "Magic Moreover "I slouch downstairs like the archetypal fed up teen. And I am fed up. No normal teen life for me, no way. Instead I get a load of problems and no solution but to talk about them to people. But who? My parents, though they love me, just don't seem the right people. There's only one friend I feel I completely trust, and yet I don't want to tell her to be met with a blank face and a changed attitude.
But for all my problems, I'm just about floating near the deeply unattractive light fitting. I'm in love. And not your typical teenage love either, I guess. I've been chatting to the person all night, on Instant! Messenger.(Which, by the way is a brilliant invention. I miss computers so much when I'm at school.) In between my essay, of course. But the catch? I cant discuss this excitedly over lunch with my closest friend, or blush over questions about them from my family. Because, until I solve this problem, this relationship, in effect, can't exist outside of me and them.
I really never felt this way before. So i'm only fifteen. Who cares? Well, I've been in love before, I guess. But it really wasn't a pleasant experience. More crying and pondering pleading with him than telling each other we loved each other. But this....this is different. But if I want this to be real, then I have to stop being so selfish and get it over with. My parents? My parents. Of course, I'll tell them first. I put my hand on the doorhandle and grip maybe a little too tightly. Deep breath. Then I go in .
'Mum? Dad? Can I talk to you both?" They look up, and mum nudges my dad with her foot. With a somewhat exasperated look, he switches off Coronation Street. It's slightly discerining having a Dad that's addicted to soap operas and talk shows. "Yes, Herm?" "I need to tell you something. Please don't interrupt, I think I just need to talk at you then liten to you when I'm finished." They nod, and I prepare to give them what is probably the biggest shock since they found out Mum was pregnant. Or maybe that I had a place at Hogwarts.
