fashionsoprano

Mercedes. I guess you could say it came sooner than I expected. Coming out is such a hassle anyway. How more obvious do I need to make it. Do they want to catch me doodling Mr. Kurt Hummel Hudson into my notebook? Find a shrine in my room dedicated to every male in our school? I don't want to deal with this yet. I wanted the inquiries about my sexuality to first come from the reporters beating down my door after launching my new line of modestly priced men's suits, fragrences, and fedoras. This would be after my broadway debut of course. Not that my father hasn't been 'inquiring' for years. Or Puck, or Rachel, Tina, Mr. Schuester, and every other student in our school. Execpt maybe Finn who once asked me if Rachel and I were a 'thing'.  Like I would come with in a mile of that fame hungry drama queen even if I were straight. I don't feel the need to be labled. I don't want to fit into the box of the poor, sad, gay teen that everyone makes fun of, that everyone hates. Who gets kicked out of his house, bashed, put down and stayed down. I am not that person, and if I have it my way I'll never be that person.

I don't know what to do next. Mercedes thiks I should tell the kids in Glee, say's that they'll understand, but how can they. We have cheerleaders in the club for god's sake. And Finn, my god Finn, imagine what they'd do to me if they knew. If he knew. No, my little secret will stay exactly that, a secret.