At seventeen, I sat on my bed, staring down at the black metal in my hands. The gun felt heavier than usual. I loaded the chamber, knowing that putting a bullet into my head was the wisest choice I could make. The Bible in my Southern Baptist home taught me that God and my parents saw me as an abomination because I was gay. I hated myself! Since God did not remove the “sin” from me after many heartfelt prayers, I thought the only way out was death.
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