They hate me. God hates me. I hate me.

And whatever they say, I can’t help it. I don’t want to be gay. Don’t they think I would change if I could? Then everyone wouldn’t hate me. Then they might love me. Mom, and Dad. Don’t they think I want them to love me?

But they won’t. Or they can’t.

But I can’t help it. I can’t!

I’ve tried. I did, really I’ve tried. Over and over. I even tried to kiss Amy. She’s been my best friend forever and she says she always knew I was gay. But she wanted to help me if I hated it that much.

But it just wasn’t… it just wasn’t.

She writes me. At this place they sent me to. Mom and dad write me too. Sounding happier than they ever were when they talked to me at home. I guess the councilors told them I’m doing well. Meaning I’m learning not to be gay.

I guess that means they haven’t found out about Roger yet.

I wonder if his parents are getting those reports too. That he won’t be gay when they send him home. He puts on a good show. Of course, he’s older than me. More practice.

They must be hearing that from the councilors. Because he’s going home. Tomorrow. Really early in the morning. So he shouldn’t hear about me, before he goes. Probably not after either. He’ll just think I didn’t write him. Or couldn’t.

Well, I won’t be able to, will I?

I hear that some kids’ parents don’t care. Will’s got a friend in Massachusetts. He says they’re happy that he’s gay.

I don’t need my parents to be happy. Just to still care about me even if I was such a horrible thing.

Will says I could just wait. Just play the game and get out of here and when I’m eighteen move somewhere like Massachusetts or New Hampshire or Canada.

I just wish I could. But my parents would hate me. And I’d go to hell. I’ll probably go to hell anyway.

That’s what I’m really scared of. My parents will probably be happy, or something. They won’t have a gay son anymore. God will probably forgive them, or whatever. For not having something like me in their lives anymore.

I hate them. Hate them all.

I hate them.

I guess if I’m some horrible sin then I get to hate them. Not like I’m going to get to heaven anyway. So what does it matter?

I’m going to hell. Tonight.

Oh shit. I’m so scared.

But what difference does it make? If I go now or in whatever-many years.

I can’t NOT be gay. I can’t!

Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Why am I like this? I try. I really do. Don’t you see that? Why won’t you help me? It just doesn’t work! I… I swear I tried not to love him. I really did. I didn’t even have sex with him. Not really.

But I wanted to. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. But I wanted to. I still do. And if I leave here, I’ll want to still. It doesn’t help. What they say and what they do. I try. I pretend and I want it to not be pretending. I want to mean it. I really do. Why won’t you help me mean it? What did I do wrong? I tried.

But you don’t help. So I guess that’s it, right? You’re telling me.


It’s not like I didn’t know. I just… I wished, you know? I wanted to be OK. I wanted… but you said no, I guess. ‘Cause nothing changed. I still want him. Not just him, which might mean something, I think. But there’s Rory who is… It doesn’t matter. All it means it that I’m not fixed. And I never will be. And that means something.

You’re telling me something.

You’re telling me this.

I guess that’s why you gave me this way out. The razors they gave me last week. ‘Cause I need to shave now. I guess they didn’t think that I could take this thing apart, to get the razors out of the cartridge. They’ll probably do something about the razors. After this. For the other boys.

Which is too bad, really. What will they have to do?

Not like we can be fixed. You’d think the councilors here would know that.

I’m sorry God. Please forgive me. For this. For all of it. I tried. I really did.


Oh shit, I hope they didn’t hear that. Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss. It just hurt and…

Thank you. Thank you for helping me not yell that time. I know you don’t like me. But that’s something, right? I mean, if I do this, so I’m not alive anymore, doesn’t that mean I’m not gay anymore either? And maybe I don’t have to go to hell? I’m trying. Really I am. Doesn’t this count for something?

Oh, please. Please let it count for something. I’m so scared. I want to call someone. I don’t want to die. Really I don’t. Please help me. If someone comes now, to save me, can’t you do that and make me not gay? ‘Cause I tried. See? I’m trying. Can’t that count for something?

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

I don’t want to die.


I don’t I don’t I don’t I don’t I don’t I

Jason Andrew Davis, 14, of Mesquite, died February 17, 2010 in Bartlett, TN.

He was born October 12, 1995, a son of Henry James and Sarah Ann Davis.

He is survived by his parents.

Services were held at Abundant Life Pentecostal Church, in Mesquite. Burial followed at Memorial Cemetery.