Though the sun has risen, I find no reason to rise with it. I am in a state where I find no reason to do nothing and all I want to do is nothing.

The memories of pain flood my heart as I sit on my bed, my head bowed and my knees crooked. I hear the voices again – the voices of pain, more powerful than barricades and as sharp as swords. They pierce open wounds, causing more pain to ooze out.

“You can’t be here with us. You’re a heinous abomination!” Fr. Chika’s voice is the one that sticks out the most in my mind. Maybe it’s because he was the one I trusted the most.

He said he had my back, so I leaned on him, not realizing he was about to stab me in the back.

I went to him to confess my transgressions. ‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone,’ I said. He smiled reassuringly, his face as white as the robes he was wearing. ‘Of course, Mike,’ he said. ‘You can trust me,’ he said, and I decided to do so.

Moments of silence passed, and I heaved a heavy sigh, saying to him, ‘I think I’m gay.’ Again, silence reigned supreme. As my gaze wandered around his office, I felt his gaze on me. I started to feel cold – I’m not sure if it was from his air conditioning or the realization that my darkest secret had been revealed.

Finally, he sighed and asked, ‘What did you just say?’

‘I think I’m gay,’ I told him.

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure…’ I’m finding myself attracted to boys.’ My heart was pounding in my chest as I blurted out. He stopped questioning me, patted me on the back, and prayed for me. At least temporarily, I felt relieved.

The temporary relief from his prayer wore off quickly, and I was back to fighting the raging torrents of my emotions.

I had to fight the rising of my middle man when I saw attractive men.

I had to fight the erotic images that ran through my head whenever I was alone with a guy.

I had to fight the urge to seek pleasure on the internet late at night.

I had to fight the urge to keep my hands away from my middle man and remain pure.

Some times, I won these battles, and sometimes, I lost and found myself overwhelmed with guilt and condemnation.

Days passed by and soon, it was Sunday. I dressed casually and reluctantly went to Church. Father Chika was preaching when I arrived. As I sat, it seemed as if he took notice of me and began to speak on homosexuality. “Homosexuality is a sin that God is strongly against! He condemns it seriously! Avoid all who claim to be gays” he preached aloud.

I wasn’t perturbed by his sermon; I believed God was against homosexuality. But I was perturbed by the fact that His eyes were fixed on me as he preached.

‘A person like Mike should not be here!’ The sound of my name dispelled the cloud of drowsiness and caused my heart to race faster. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on me. Whispers, murmurs, jeers, and scorns pierced my heart from various angles of the church hall.

‘Will you stand up?’ demanded the father. ‘This boy is an abomination in the eyes of God. He admitted to being a homosexual last week,’ the audience exclaimed. I buried my face in my palms to avoid the embarrassment of seeing my parents’ disgusted expression. ‘We excommunicate you from this fellowship as of today, Mike. No gays are welcome in God’s house!’

As I was led out of the church, all I could think about was, “Was it my fault?”As I was ushered out of the church, all I could ask within myself was, ‘Was it my fault?’

Was it my fault that I was drawn to men?

Did I ever fantasize about it?

Did I ever ask God for it?

Was it my fault that I was weak?

Was there anything I’d done to deserve it?

I walked away, my head bowed. I’d been turned down by the person I thought would save me.

I thought the Church was the light, but they have now made my life darker than it has ever been. And I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to get out of this bed and face the same people who rejected me.

Whether it happens or not, I want everyone who hears my story to understand that all I wanted was to be a normal person with a normal life.