I'm gay as fuck but afraid to tell anybody. Every single day feels like a performance. I walk into the breakroom at work and the guys are all talking about some actress they think is hot, and I have to force out a chuckle and nod along like my dick doesn't get hard for the guy in accounting who wears those tight button-downs. I've gotten so good at lying that I could probably convince myself I'm straight if I tried hard enough.

My family is the worst. My mom is already planning my hypothetical wedding to some "nice girl" she's trying to set me up with. She'll show me pictures and say, "Isn't she lovely?" and I'll just mumble, "Yeah, she's great," while I'm mentally picturing the life I'll never have with a man who I can actually hold hands with in public without feeling like I'm committing a crime.

The worst part is the loneliness. It's not just about being single; it's about being invisible. I go on dates with women and feel like a fraud the entire time, kissing them and feeling nothing but a hollow ache of guilt. I've had secret, terrified hookups with guys I've met on apps, deleting the conversation the second it's over, my heart pounding with a mix of relief and self-loathing. I'm so desperate for a real connection that I'll risk everything for a few hours with someone who might understand, but I'm so terrified of the consequences that I build walls so high I can't even see over them. I'm trapped in this closet I built myself, and I'm starting to forget what the sun feels like.