Miserere, miserere nobis.  I have a mother, a father and a sister.  Every Sunday, I loyally attend Mass near my high school.  I am a senior, I have plans for the future.  I have a passion, and no one can take that away.

Christe eleison.  I love music, in any way, shape or form.  At home, I play my organ, or piano, or sitar, as the incense burns silently in my bedroom.  My parents don’t like that I burn it, they say it will set off the smoke alarm.  But I’m not worried.  God does not worry about a smoke alarm.  God keeps my home safe, He keeps me safe.  He does not, however, let my parents understand.

Sancta trinitas unus deus, miserere nobis.  My parents and I have a fairly rocky relationship.  They can’t understand.  They say that it’s a sin; what they mean is that I am a sin.  No matter how faithful I am—in fact, I’m Godlier than they are—they still say I fall short of His expectations.  Did Christ not die for my sins?  I have His forgiveness.  Why won’t my parents get that?

Pater de coelis deus, miserere nobis.  It’s not easy at home.  I have my music as an escape.  I often pray that my family will actually open their eyes and see that I’m not a villainous deviant.  Is it because I’m Catholic and they’re not?  They have their church and bible studies.  I am, however, still more faithful than they have ever been.  I try to love them, and they only give me intolerance.

Spiritus sancti deus, miserere nobis.  Forgive me, Father, but I have not sinned.  I am a normal high school senior.  You may not comprehend, but it’s not that hard.  I’m not speaking French to you.  You and Mother, too.  Please give me this chance.  I’m not a little boy anymore.  I’m a man, and you can’t force me to stop going to school.

Fili redemptor mundi deus, miserere nobis.  Mother, Father, I love him.  I love him so much.  It’s not disgusting, it’s not dirty.  We are not committing sodomy.  Our relationship is pure.  No, he’s not Catholic—so what?  We have our love and I give him the love of God.  My friends support us; why can’t you?

Kyrie eleison.  My sister understands me better.  She likes him, thinks he’s sweet and cute.  She knows where I’m coming from, but in the end, she’ll side with my parents.

Ave Maria.  I have my music, I have God, I have my friends, I have him.  That’s all I need, in the end.  My parents will never understand, but I graduate soon.  In a few months, I won’t need them to understand anymore.  I look forward to those days.