Imagine a world where no one really cares about your social standing or about your hair, or the color of your skin, or the people you like, or who you feel you are; a world where everyone is equal, and you can be whoever you want to be without being judged.

Can you imagine?

Imagine the sky, vast and unwaveringly distant. When the clouds cover it, it seems so far away, impossible to reach. Gray, and dreary, and not nearly as beautiful as the once-clear blue, with no hope in sight for a return of the sun. Imagine that sky, and think.

I like to think that I'm normal, that I'm just like everyone else. I go to school, I get relatively good grades, I talk with my friends about what to do over the weekend. But I think about more things than what to do over the weekend; I think about how I'm going to tell people about who I am, how I'm going to avoid the subtle glares, the jeering, and the people slamming me into lockers and calling me names. How I'm going to avoid my parents when they figure out. How I'm going to run, and hide, and not come out until the clouds overhead disperse, until that world without prejudice finally comes.

It's 1969, and people are rioting in the streets outside of the Stonewall Inn. It was recently found out to be a gay bar, and so the police raided the place. I want to join the protest, but if I do, everyone will know. My friends, my family, teachers, classmates. All of them will know who I am, and sit and stare, and point and judge, until my mask of stability cracks, until I lose it. Until I lose it all.

But hiding is worse. I can't sit by and watch others just like me be shot in the streets. I can't wait for that tomorrow, because if I do, others will never see it come. I can't hide from myself, because if I don't come out of this closet that I've been stuck in, the future I'm looking forward to might never come. The world won't change if you sit back, so I think it's time to say it, loud and clear.

I'm gay, and proud.