He is handsome in his own way. Not a conventional way, I must admit - he'd never make a model or an actor. But his kindness is evident in his features, in the way he moves and talks. I get on well with him and we chat often, and I feel a giddy storm of butterflies in my stomach when I make him smile.
But yes, I know that this is wrong.
Today in history we learned about the Age of Perversion, when Satan's liberals took sway over the media with their Gay Agenda. We learned about the sin of homosexuality, and the evil deeds of its slimy practitioners. In groups, we discussed what we would do if confronted with one of these perverts, how we would convince them to change their awful ways. And inevitably, in my group of half a dozen guys, we talked about how much we were disgusted by the very idea, how dark a period of history this was, compared to our own enlightened times, government restructured around God.
I went further than the others in my condemnation, in making clear my repulsion at the way they flaunted their wickedness. I think I surprised even myself at the depth of vitriol I had for those historical deviants. Self-hatred, obviously.
I hate myself for loving him.
And I hate myself for wanting to ask why love should be a sin at all.