# A Queer Life

Author: Revresbo
Tags: Bisexual, Fox, Highschool, M/F, Sad

You'd think there would be a limit to how many tears you can spill in a given time.&nbsp; Perhaps there is, but the quota seems to be higher than should be possible for a fox.&nbsp; Over the course of my life, I've probably cried my body weight in tears, and I'm only sixteen.&nbsp; Physically, I was your typical fox.&nbsp; Red fur, black socks, amber eyes, a lithe body, long tail, standing about 5'2".&nbsp; I used to be typical for mentality and emotions, but the past few years had made life hard for me.&nbsp; Even my parents treated me worse since I came out.

I had reason to cry often enough, and this time, it was because I had been beaten up--a fairly common occurence--and locked in a locker at the high school I went to with the promise of being freed in a hour, after school.&nbsp; I knew better than to make noise to attract attention.&nbsp; The teachers might let me out, but they wouldn't care too much, and the students would just laugh at me.

It would be easier to bear if I had even one friend, but they had all abandoned me at fourteen, when I came out.&nbsp; I didn't even have a sibling to rely on because I was an only child.&nbsp; My parents tolerated me, but no longer showed any particular warmth.&nbsp; I was alone, a freak, an outcast, just trying to survive each day without getting severely wounded.&nbsp; My grades had fallen along with my social standing, giving the teachers more reason to look down on me.&nbsp; Most days, I wondered why I bothered getting up in the morning.&nbsp; I should have never admitted it.&nbsp; After all, I was bi, so I could have just pretended to be normal.&nbsp; Everyone ignored the fact that I was attracted to both, though, and just called me queer.&nbsp; It was getting harder and harder to bear, and I found myself considering taking over the recommended dose of my sleeping pills each night.

I had no way to measure the passage of time in the dark locker.&nbsp; I could feel my fur matting on my face as I silently cried, although the tears eventually stopped.&nbsp; I knew they'd be back at least once before the day was out.&nbsp; Ever since my fourteenth birthday, I had cried myself to sleep every night.&nbsp; I had stopped journalling, too.&nbsp; It was too depressing.&nbsp; I let my tears write the story on my pillow as I hugged a stuffed border collie doll close to my chest.&nbsp; Not even my parents knew I slept with it.&nbsp; I didn't need to be ridiculed for being childish as well as my sexual orientation.

Finally, the bell rang.&nbsp; I would be free soon.&nbsp; I heard students in the hallway, opening the lockers next to my cell.&nbsp; Eventually, the noise died down, but I wasn't worried yet.&nbsp; The bullies wouldn't open it with everyone there.&nbsp; I silentlyh counted the seconds.&nbsp; One minute... two minutes... five minutes...&nbsp; I lost count at around 400 seconds.&nbsp; I was getting worried.&nbsp; I wouldn't be locked in here all night, would I?&nbsp; I was on the verge of tears again when the lock spun and the locker opened.

I was cramped up from my imprisonment and fell out of the locker.&nbsp; They let me fall, laughing as they closed the door.&nbsp; I got a few kicks for good measure before they walked off.&nbsp; "Fucking queer," one said as she walked away.

I slowly picked myself up and went to my own locker to grab my stuff.&nbsp; I had been in the locker since lunch, which amounted to about two and a half hours.&nbsp; I grimaced as I worked out the cramps and readied myself for a long walk home.&nbsp; I had missed the bus, but I usually walked anyway to avoid the stares, namecalling, and rolled up pieces of paper that were hurled at me.&nbsp; It took me around an hour and a half--just enough time to get home to eat before spending the night in my room doing homework and surfing the net on my computer.&nbsp; The internet was my only refuge, the only place I could find others like me.&nbsp; I stayed up for hours sometimes, escaping from my harsh reality.

I fiddled with my tail as I walked, a nervous habit.&nbsp; Once in a blue moon, I would encounter a group of kids who would have fun beating on the queer kid.&nbsp; The most embarrassing time had been when the group of about a dozen twelve year olds ganged up on me and brought me down.&nbsp; I had endured even more abuse for a month after that for being a weakling who couldn't even fight off elementary students.

This time, I got home without incident.&nbsp; I made quick work of my dinner (spaghetti and meat sauce) and went to my upstairs room, locking the door behind me.&nbsp; I quickly stripped out of my sweat- and tear-stained clothes and sat myself, still naked, at the computer.&nbsp; I signed on to the internet, and let out a sigh.&nbsp; I was free--free to be myself without ridicule.

I quickly opened a chat window with Fiona.&nbsp; She was bi, like me, and a fox, like me.&nbsp; She was my one good friend whom I could talk to about anything.&nbsp; Unfortunately, she lived about a twelve hour drive away, so we'd never met in real life.&nbsp; I did my best with just words over the web, but I wished we could actually hug.&nbsp; I was starting to develop feelings for her, and I suspected she had some for me as well.

She asked how my day had been.&nbsp; I told her about the locker incident, and she quickly gave me a virtual hug.&nbsp; Even those three letters could make me feel a little better.&nbsp; She had a better time than I did because her parents supported her, but I didn't begrudge her that.&nbsp; I didn't want anyone to go through what I had to deal with.

All too soon, it got late, and she had to go.&nbsp; I stayed up another hour, reading stories and looking at... art (cough cough).&nbsp; When I finally went to bed, I could feel the tears well up as I held my plushie close.&nbsp; As always, I silently asked God, _Why couldn't you make me gay like everyone else?&nbsp;_ With thoughts of Fiona filling my mind, I drifted into fitful sleep.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/GnDB0vPe