I stared at the lettering on the brochure, “It’s The Choices That Make Us Who We Are.” As I sat in the lobby, I thought about all the choices I had made in my life.

Those were all effects, responses.

I didn’t choose my parents, or their religion, or to be born this way. I knew how I felt inside, who the real me deep down was. The choices I had made were made to survive, to feel like I had a choice in a stifling environment of hatred. They had nothing to do with the me inside.

The problem was that no one wanted the real me out. I had to hide myself, bottle it up, and pretend to be someone else. No amount of confessing to a licensed professional was going to change my life. My parents, and the whole world, had to change first. THEY should be the ones in counseling.

I put the brochure down and stuffed my knitted hat back on. It was time to make another choice. This time the choice was to BE me. If my parents or the world didn’t like it, tough. I need to love myself and let the real me shine!