Preface

 

Our secrets are helium balloons. Hold on to them, they stay intact. Let go of them, they emerge into space, and if you are one of those whose luck turns on them, your helium balloons would probably become in peoples’ mouths, laughing as they divulge them.

I am one that holds a lot of secrets. I try, with all my power, to hang onto my balloons. But it gets harder when your they are propelling upwards, slipping slowly out of your grip. It is harder when emotions kick in. It gets harder when you feel like a stranger to yourself, to your family, to your friends. You split apart. You start living double, or even multiple, lives. Nothing turns out as planned. You become depleted. Thoughts become dispersed, and the mind, in attempt to keep pace with the perpetuated lies, drains your energy.

Perhaps one of my heaviest balloons is my homosexuality. It is the one that I try hardest keeping to myself, for the atmosphere of Lebanon cannot stand such a balloon. I carry it behind my back, everywhere I go, with everyone I meet, hoping to be spared the judgement.
However, I have never struggled with my sexuality. I’ve accepted it from day one. It’s concealment was the struggle. Coming out is desirable. I wouldn’t have to be so secretive. I wouldn’t have to lie to my parents or friends. I wouldn’t have to keep to myself all that I want to say. If only. On the other hand, outing myself would probably get me expelled, jobless, and of coarse publicly humiliated. My parents would be publicly humiliated, and I love my parents too much to let that happen. Somehow the word “gay” doesn’t have the capacity to fit in Lebanese people’s narrow minds. But will I always hold on to this heavy helium balloon? Will I ever have a partner, a boyfriend who I can freely love? When will that day come? These are the thoughts that conflict me, pushing me to let go and give in.

But that is not all.

My hands are hurting. The ribbons are sliding.