The Dual of Self-Acceptance
Everything around me shifted to pixels, and the world began to seem like an imaginary map that could be manipulated at any instant. Where am I going? I shut my eyes, trembling with fear. Maybe it will go away? When the pixelating sounds faded, I opened my eyes in hopes of being back home, but I was someplace worse. Stuck amid an empty fighting arena, I screamed for help, begging for someone to hear me, hoping someone would, but only silence answered me.
Sweat trickled off my body, my blood pulsated within my heart, and my thoughts cascaded throughout my mind. Is this a game? When will it stop? How will I win? Coming out seemed like a fever dream, a game where I could be immersed and lose myself, but what I found out was I would have to fight my way through a never-ending nightmare to reach it.
The word echoed with a husky undertone throughout the arena. Swiftly, a black figure began approaching the ring with its features slowly shining under the light. I saw that it was a broader, more prominent, grey-colored version of myself; terror polluted my eyes. I glanced at my own body; I was scrawnier than usual and dressed in various colors from the rainbow. What is this?
"Why can't you embrace me and stop thinking like a homo?" The question left a nasty taste on my tongue. I knew what this was about, and I froze. Suddenly, he sprinted towards me, and I could not move a muscle. My adrenaline surged, but my controls felt broken. He leaped, and his prodigious fist struck my jaw, making me fumble backward. Along with the aftermath, I gradually began to regain my body's senses; now, I was ready. I ran up and launched a punch directed to his lower abdomen with my instincts in complete control, causing him to hurl in pain.
"I'm tired of you trying to define me. I am not scared or ashamed. I am gay, whether you like it or not," I screamed, hoping it would do the trick to help recover my lost confidence. Before I could breathe, his leg swung across my body, almost slicing me in half. I suffocated in agony as my ribs crushed. I wanted to give up, and every fear inside me was urging me to, but a voice inside my head cried for me to stand back up. With every inch of strength I had, I sprung back up and hurdled towards him. We both locked hands, hindering one of us from striking and struggling to move.
"Give up. Everyone will hate you, queer. You're not gay."
"Yes, I am gay."
"Accept it already."
"No!" He shoved me forward, both of us plummeting to the ground with him on top of me. Left vulnerable, he began thrashing my face, over and over. I felt my senses start to drop, and my consciousness begin to fall. No, this can not happen. Quickly, I twisted my body, causing him to sink to the ground. I sprung on top of him and struck him with all the rage I possessed.
"I," my lusty right uppercut sliced through the right side of his cheek. "Am," my sloppy left blow struck his stomach, causing him to hurl in agony. "Gay!" With all my might and passion powered within one strike, I launched my fist towards his face, rendering him unconscious. Regaining my balance, I expected him to rise, but he did not move. I counted to ten seconds in my head, and there was still no movement, and everything was silent.
I defeated my fears and my worst enemy: myself. The next battle's capability persisted in my fingers, and that enough fulfilled the confidence I regularly display as I play vice and virtue inside my head. The strength of my next move, the words I speak, and the feelings I feel all rest in my control panel. I will never lose again.
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