another comic about the closet, tw for transphobia, misgendering, homophobia
[id: a comic titled “the ugly stuff,” done mostly in red, yellow, white, and dark blue. the protagonist, who has short messy hair, and a friend, who has long hair, are sitting at the bar area of a restaurant, both with bowls and chopsticks. the friend says, “so why don’t you come out to them? …just wondering.” the protagonist looks at their friend before looing forward, holding their chopsticks, and says, “ah. well.” they look back over. around them, their food has started floating, noodles and bowl flying all around as the background fades to black. they themself float up off their stool, saying, “it’s like–” various other items float through the space as we cut to the protagonist sitting in the passenger seat of a car, feet up on the dash as they continue, “mom knows, she just keeps conveniently forgetting.”
black space and floating noodles still leaking in through the corners, we see the protagonist’s mother sitting at the steering wheel, saying, “won’t it be hard to date people if you’re–” a shot of a chair floating amongst the black space. “you’re–” the protagonist still sits in the passenger seat with a neutral expression, arms limp at their sides, and continues off-screen, “and it’s not a bad thing—”
“but each time i try to explain,” they say over a close-up of their food, hovering in the floating black space, “i get all choked up and tired. like something’s growing in my throat, behind my eyelids. it’s hard to move past it. is that bad?” we see the protagonist hovering with their legs up, doors and gendered bathroom signs floating around them. “it’s just a lot to take in,” they continue. “not a girl, not a boy, would be okay with dating either. i can’t distill it down.”
cut to them sitting at a dinner table with their family. their mother is highlighted in white, as is the protagonist, but the rest of their surroundings are rendered in a dull yellow. “she’s okay with it, i think,” the protagonist says, looking at their mom. “and dad probably would be too—” they add, father now highlighted in white instead. looking down at their plate, they say, “but what if he’s not?” over a shot of a floating glass, they continue, “once i tell them, how far does it go? outside of this circle, there’s others.” a shot of them and a family member standing across from each other, the other saying, “we don’t like to talk about jenner. goompa and i have started calling her— does it bother you that you share a name?” while the protagonist looks down with a forcibly neutral expression.
cut back to the protagonist back in the black space, now even more cluttered. “i don’t–that’s not my name anymore–” they say, tears in the corners of their eyes. they look over their shoulder, continuing, “and beyond that there’s aunts and uncles, relatives who go to church every sunday, who are married to pastors.” they trail off, arms spread. “if i tell one person,” they say as the noodles floating around them start to curve around their neck, “won’t it just spiral? how do you explain to your youth minister cousin that you want to hold a girl’s hand?” they clutch their head, tearing up again. “won’t they all end up knowing? if i stop hiding, there’s no limit–”
cut back to them at the bar. their bowl clatters to the side, a bit of liquid spilling out, and the protagonist and their friend sit in silence for a beat before they say, “yeah, mostly i’m just too lazy. so what about you?” their friend responds, “regrettably, i still like men.” /end id.]
