If I'm going to sing like someone else, then I don't need to sing at all.

- Billie Holiday

When I was younger, the water stain on my ceiling reminded me of a duck.

I now laid on my bed and stared at the yellow splotch directly above me and saw nothing but the ugliness of our old house. I wished I still had those younger eyes that could find things interesting, eyes that saw things beyond the cold, hard truth.

"Caleb?" Mom knocked and opened the door. "Caleb, your Dad's mowing. You could help, you know."

"He didn't ask me to help," I said.

She stood and looked at me. She seemed tired, as usual. She took a deep breath and I knew what was coming next. "Please get up and get out of your room." She took another deep breath. "You worry me. Is something bothering you?"

"No, Mom, I'm just tired."

"You're always tired. Get up...go outside...get some fresh air," she said.

"I'm fine, Mom. Please leave me alone."

"Where are your friends? Why don't you hang out anymore?" she asked. "I haven't seen Wyatt in forever, or what's his name...the little scrawny one?" She looked to the ceiling, thinking. "Jonathan, isn't that his name?"

"I guess, Mom."

"You guys used to have so much fun playing your guitars and listening to music. You haven't picked your guitar up in ages." She walked to the corner where my guitar was propped and ran her fingers across it. "It's dusty. That's a shame. You used to love this guitar. You saved and saved your money for it. I think that may have been the happiest I've ever seen you, when you brought this home."

She took the tail of her shirt and dusted it. She smiled the smile you make when thinking of a good memory. I felt bad now that I was being a big brat to her.

"I'm okay. I promise," I said.

"You can talk to me, you know," she said quietly, staring me in the eyes.

"I'm okay, Mom. You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"Am I?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her.

"Supper will be ready soon. I want you to eat at the table, okay?"

"Sure," I said. I took another hard look at the yellowed splotch on my ceiling and tried to see a duck.

I couldn't.

I forced myself off the bed and sat on its edge. I cleared my head and looked around. I got up and walked to my computer. It too was covered in the dust of an old house. I ran my fingers over it. This used to be my baby. I ordered it piece by piece. When I finally got the last one, me and my buddies spent a whole day building it. It was perfection. We celebrated with high fives and pizza and played rounds of Counter Strike half the night!

How long ago was that? I thought about it. Three months ago. It seemed like forever.

I could hear my mom and dad talking on the front porch while Dad brushed grass from his pantlegs.

"Don't worry honey," Dad said. "It's probably just girl problems."

I walked the halls of high school with my head down. I wore the same t-shirt from yesterday and the same worn jeans. I no longer heard the voices screaming down the hall, "Caleb! My man! Caleb, what's up! Caleb!" Instead I walked in silence.

My friends, they weren't mean to me. My friends were ghosts. They had known me since preschool. They told secrets to me. We hung out. We were tight.

Not anymore. Not since I told my very best friend in the entire world that I was confused. My best friend in the entire world was Kayla. We'd grown up together in a state subsidized daycare. We'd played in the after school program in elementary school. Kayla was like a sister to me.

Until I told her I was confused. That's all.

We used to talk for hours on the phone, on Skype. We would talk about life. We talked about getting a place when we graduated. We talked about how her parents drank too much and about how my parents worked too much. We talked about everything.

But I should have never told her that I thought I was gay.

Now she sat behind me in web design class.

"Ew, your book bag is leaning on mine. Move it," Kayla said. I looked at her and searched her face for anything recognizable as my friend but I couldn't find it. I moved my bag away from hers, and saw Wyatt and Chris and little Jonathan shake their heads slowly in disgust. I lowered my head and thought of nothing but blackness. The bell rang and forced me to rise and make my way to the next class.

"Caleb? Can I come in?" It was Mom. She had on her scrubs from work. When did I ever see her without those damned scrubs?

"Yes, Mom."

"Caleb, I'm making you a doctor's appointment."

"Why Mom?"

"Because, I'm worried about you...that's why."

"Mom, I'm fine. Jesus, why do you want to always make me feel bad?"

Mom lowered her head."I don't. I mean, I don't mean to."

I was the youngest of four kids. My mom had had me when she was forty. My siblings were grown with families of their own. Mom did try to stay hip. She tolerated my music and actually seemed to like it. She listened to me while I talked endlessly about a video game or a YouTube channel. She kept an open mind to all of my interests.

Why I didn't trust her with my deepest, darkest secret is something I cannot explain. Why had I trusted Kayla Jennings? I thought we were friends 'til the end! I don't know.

It shouldn't be this hard.

"I think you're depressed, Caleb," Mom said. "You're always tired and you're not eating well. You're not enjoying life anymore." She became teary.

"Don't cry, Mom, please." I hated to see her cry. If I told her the truth...if I told her what was really going on, I imagined I would see many more tears. I couldn't do that to her.

"I'm just worried about college, you know...my future," I told her. She sat on my bed and rubbed the top of my head.

"Caleb, it will be okay. I thought you had decided on Western State?"

That was something else I couldn't tell her. My grades were bad. I was flunking everything. My GPA had dropped. I wouldn't be able to get into Western.

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe," I said.

"Cheer up...please?" she pleaded.

"I will, Mom."

She wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "Dad's grilling burgers tonight," she said before closing my door.

"That sounds great," I said, and made a small smile back.

Once she was gone, I held myself. I wrapped my arms around me as hard as I could. And I cried like I was five years old.