I feel like there are things that I actually believe, but that they get mixed up in the foray of things I try to believe. In my heart, what feels true is this: that it doesn't matter what gender two people have; if they are in love, it is an inherently good thing. But I've been taught my entire life that homosexuality is an awful, pernicious, and evil thing. It has always been something to be ashamed of. It has always been something that must be kept hidden. And for that reason, it has been both defining and demolishing.

I guess that's why, when I tell people, I expect it to shatter their worlds', too. I expect it to utterly change the way they perceive and interact with me. And that's why I'm so scared of telling people.

But I had an interesting experience a few weeks ago. I was talking to a friend I came out to in high school. We hadn't actually talked about me being gay in a long time, and I mentioned it. She looked surprised, and then said that she had forgotten. I was shocked. How could she forget? Didn't it completely change me in her eyes?

No, it didn't. I was still the exact same person. No matter what we do, we cannot escape ourselves. Though I try to compartmentalize myself, and lock one piece deep within a closet, it's still a part of me, and so it coming out doesn't change who I am in the least. I don't think I give people enough of a chance--I really just assume that they'll reject me. Most people I've talked to have been kind and supportive, and really haven't changed at all their attitudes or mannerisms towards me.

The more research I do into homosexuality and Church history, the more I think the Church is deeply mistaken in its policies and procedures. Today I was reading an etiology of homosexuality according to Church Leaders compiled by Connell O'Donovan, and there was one line that really stood out. In the early 1960s there was a general authority serving as president of BYU who gave a talk in which he asked all homosexuals at BYU to promptly leave because they didn't want the other students "contaminated by your presence." When I read that, my heart started beating. Contaminated? Was that all homosexuals were to him? Contaminants? No wonder there were a host of suicides in that era by homosexuals who couldn't reconcile their faith and their sexuality.

If "by their fruits ye shall know them," then which do I count as their fruits? The Church has been an incredibly positive influence on my family. Do I count those fruits? Or do I count the suicides? The Book of Mormon teaches that all good things come from God and all evil things from the devil. Why is it that my feelings for men feel so right and good, and the actions of the Church seem so unholy?

I don't know the answer. But the longer I live, the more I believe that these questions are perhaps not meant to be answered. I don't want to live an apology--I want to live a life. I believe that the purpose of life is to become something. I need to follow my own heart, my own conscience, and my own logic. I don't want to be the product of an organization or a culture--but the product of my own views on morality.

And my morality is thus: that all good things lead us to love each other unconditionally. The deepest morality I can conceive of is that of compassionate, understanding, and empathy. Even as I say that, my brain immediately thinks of counterarguments. But that really is my deepest conviction. And I know this: my experience thus far in life with homosexuality has enabled me to recognize pain in others, and to empathize with it. It has instilled in me the deep desire to help everyone who struggles. And for that, it is good. I still don't know what I'm going to choose in life--whether I'll come fully out of the closet and pursue a relationship with a man, or find a woman that I actually fall in love with; stay in the church or leave the church-- but I know this: I will try my hardest to be filled with compassion. I will try to be a moral being.