Today as Christmas Day looms over, I am reminded that there’s really no place like home.
Because while home might be the place where I grew and matured, home is also the place that I keep on hiding the real me from–the Jeff that has never felt so comfortable about expressions of sexuality.
Just the other day, Mama told me that “It’s like I don’t know you anymore, anak” after I told her I won’t be able to go home on the 20th of December. Sa 23rd pa, sabi ko. Does she feel that I’m hiding something major from her?
Frankly, it comes as no surprise that she feels like that because I am a different person now. But this disease as my family would surely call it once they find out, has already spread throughout my body. My mind has been contaminated, my body infected. And while home might be the perfect place for rest and glee, home can never cure me, nor can it live with the disease.
There’s really no place like home.