Not too much longer after that the panic attacks came. I think it was around April of my sophomore year. I was in church and I started getting the aura that precedes a migraine. It was probably my second migraine ever. It scared the living daylights out of me, even though I pretty much knew what was happening. The next week in church, I got scared again, for no reason. This isn't just scared though. Imagine being chased by a psychokiller, how hard your heart beats. You know that feeling you have in your stomach when you wake up from a bad nightmare. Double that and add 3. It didn't go away. In fact, it began to spread. Every new situation was an opportunity for a panic attack. I stopped doing the readings in church because the fear was too much. I began to get counseling. My Junior year in high school was tough. I had gained so much self confidence, and then all the sudden I was shot down. It was so difficult to go to a chorus concert, standing up in front of all those eyes and ears. I loved chorus, but my Junior year was the last year that I would take it.

I swore to myself that I would eventually tell my counselor that I was gay. The right time never came though. There had been plenty of opportunities but I just couldn't bring myself to it. Eventually he told me that I was doing fine enough that I no longer had to see him. Sometime later that year, I went with my best friend and his parents to La Salette shrine in Massachusets. One of the things we did there was go to confession. I swore to myself that this time I would tell someone. I told one of the priests. He was very calm and gentle. He told me that everyone slips. A couple Our Fathers, Hail Maries and Glory Bes and we were on our way once again. I felt relieved, but only temporarily. It was still a deep secret and there was still a lot of confusion inside of me.

My senior year in high school was by far my best year. Things were getting better again. The anxiety was going away. I had a close group of friends. I was getting very close to one of them. A girl. I still didn't ignore the fact that I had at least one favorite boy to look at in each of my classes. But I felt a strong emotional bond to this girl. Months went on with mutual friends knowing about the mutual attraction but things progressed slowly. Sometimes, while we watched a movie, I put my arm around her, or she would lay her head against my shoulder. A twinge of excitement in my stomach. Was I finally moving on? Was this weird stage of development finally leaving me?

In December my Dad decided to get a one month trial of the internet (yeah, we were slightly behind the times). He made me promise not to look at the filth that was out there. Of course I agreed, what else would I say? But curiosity got the best of me. Especially this kind of curiosity. There is no stronger force than that created by pent up sexuality. Ask anyone, gay or straight. I took it all in greedily. When I was done, I deleted the history. After all, that's the only way that someone could know, right? No one had ever told me about Cache.

The month trial expired, and my parents let it go. I figured they didn't want to pay the money. It was a quiet winter day in January. My brother had gone back to school and so it was just my parents and I. My Mom told me that, when I get a chance, I should sit down at the kitchen table...they wanted to talk to me. What if...no...there's no way they could know. Still, the kitchen table never was a good sign. I dutifully sat down, innocent, naive. My Father began, "Remember when we got the internet and you promised not to look at any porn sites?" I couldn't speak...no, I REFUSED to speak. I thought, maybe there was still a chance they didn't know. I couldn't look at them. The air was thick. There was at least a minute of silence. My cheeks kept getting hotter. Suddenly my Mom added, "your Father told me the names of some of these sites." Pure emotion flooded up and would not be stopped. I couldn't pick out one emotion and tell you that's how I felt. It was a mix of many, maybe all of them. But I couldn't be around my parents. I wasn't ready yet. I was being thrown in the water again, and I hadn't even had the chance to get a breath of air. I ran upstairs to my room, locked the door and cried. I cried, and bawled and cried. It wouldn't stop, it COULDN'T be stopped. I felt like I couldn't even face the world anymore. But I always had a realistic side and I knew eventually I would have to.

It took about an hour for me to calm down. I washed my face in the bathroom, and then sat in my room again. I could feel the tears rejuvenating themselves, but I wouldn't let them out. I was so scared, I put my hand on the doorknob, and held it there for a few minutes. Finally it opened. I walked downstairs. My parents were waiting. "Alright, so what do you want to know," I asked. I always did have a knack for just getting right to the point when I wanted to. "Well," my mother responded, "I guess we need to know...are you gay?" Yes. My mother grabbed me and held me and we both cried. My Dad just stood there. He didn't move. Not sure if he even breathed. "I think your father needs a hug too." I hugged him and it was like hugging a statue. He just stood there. Apparently he had been in the same denial about my sexuality that I had suffered from. It was a coming out day for the both of us. That weekend was awkward. I was exhausted, and my parents pretended like everything was normal. But I just couldn't get over it. They knew. They knew. That's all that kept going through my brain. It was the most foreign thing in the world, as if I had grown another appendage. All I could do was touch it in disbelief.