Well, this is different LOL
I'm trying to get used to writing in a journal/diary style for a project so here I am. Writing diaries. 
Please bear with me and if you have any personal stories similar to what I experience, please do share!

Without further ado..

#1 

So a family friend nearly caused me to come out to my mom.

And the incident (no, I didn't come out to her yet), caused me to contemplate on our situation.

My mom… is a weird case.

She seems to be open to the concept of same relationship. But she sometimes say things that extinguishes my hopes, time and time gain, from the prospect of coming out to her. She's a very pragmatic psychologist-slash-counselor who's very unbiased in her approach, very open to different religions, races, cultures, and well, ualities, yet has a very old school Catholic way of viewing well, uality.

It's like she has a switch in her brain. Psychology brain, mom brain. Counselor brain, Catholic brain. It's okay to be queer, it's not okay to be queer.

She's like a sea at storm and I'm a small boat stuck in the middle. Can't go forward yet can't return back to shore. Can't come out yet can no longer pretend that she doesn't know who I am anymore.

She must know. I'm sure of it. I'm very positively sure of it.

I have a 'queer section' at my bookshelf, for god sake. I ramble about queer movies, candidly tell her when I see pretty girls, I don't have any boyfriend for the twenty two years of my life (well, I do have crushes, and I do go out with boys on dates, but the fact that I've never loved... a boy... must've been a pretty big sign for those who seek), and a shaman once sneakily outed me in front of her.

Yes. A shaman. A witch doctor of some sort. Outed me. In front of her.

(Sometimes I say that my life is a boring droll where nothing happens but then I remember things like this did, which makes me realise that hey, maybe it isn't as boring as I always thought it was.)

She heard about him from a friend's friend, told her he could take one look at you and tell you the types of food that are your 'poison', or something like that. He lives in a small island at the South Eastern part of my country (the South Easternmost island of South East Asia, how fitting) and my mom somehow got him to answer her request to give his rehabilitation center a visit.

It's a really hard thing to do, she said, like winning a lottery. And so she dragged me there.

He's a devout Catholic, just like my mom, in essence, but somehow I got the vibe that he's not… like that, if you know what I mean.

And at that moment, two PM, if I'm not mistaken, because his poison seeing eye can only open at a certain hour, when he looked at me in the eye with a really cheeky smile as he told me, 'I think sometimes you wish you were born as a male, because then you can do all the chasing.' I thought, 'oh my god. Maybe I can talk to him for some religious guidance for how I can juggle being a Catholic and a girl (and boy) loving queer at the same time.'

But then the next day, before I asked him the question of how?, he put his arm around my shoulders, smiled his cheeky smile at me (that smile of his always made it seem as if he knew. Everything.) and said, 'we can always change it before it gets worse, right?'

I nearly vomited.

Well, at least my mom agreed with me. Because she never brought him up all that much around me afterwards. Maybe she saw how much it bothered me. Maybe the fact that I nearly cried (and I could never hide my nearly-crying face from her however much I've tried to learn to do so) when she told me, also in the brink of crying, 'maybe you might find yourself liking girls, unknowingly.' when I asked her, 'what did he mean by be the one who's chasing others?' told her something about me way more than the shaman ever did.

Because mom, it was not unknowingly. At least not at that moment. I know. I want to be the one who do the chasing.

At least I could live my life knowing that her tears at that moment, when we were sitting face to face on our single beds in the dingy small room of the shaman's hospice, were not one of shame. Or anger. Or disappointment. 

It was just pure sadness. As if she knew of what hardships my queerness might entail.

She knows. I know she does. And I know she's only waiting for me to come out to her instead of confronting me for truth. That's just how much of a counselor she is. 

I still haven't come out to my mom until today. I'm not ready.

And I don't know if I ever will.