In celebration of National Coming Out Day: 'How I came out of the closet' It's National Coming Out Day and we're sharing stories. This picture was taken when I was 17, just after I'd come out of the closet. Someone call the fashion police! It's National Coming Out Day! 25 years on, Coming Out still matters Continue the conversation with Matt via @the_mattyoung Send us your Coming Out stories via youngma@news.com.au TEN years ago a lanky, gangly teenager accepted his sexuality after years of denial and disillusion, and finally came out of the closet. That day changed my life forever. Suspicions about my sexuality arose before I knew that the word "gay" even existed, let's just say I'm not the straightest nail in the shed. In primary school I was fairly sheltered and life rolled by as per usual - choir and dance were among my after-school activities. In hindsight, I should have known I was gay a lot earlier than I did. But it wasn't until I reached high school that reality hit and I was forced to confront my sexuality head on. The first three years in particular were quite difficult. Kids can be incredibly cruel creatures. Fifteen years ago, homosexuality was still fairly taboo and certainly not as acceptable as it is today and growing up in the north-west suburbs of Sydney - God's country - I was a prime target from the day I walked in with my Spice Girl platform shoes. Bless, I was asking for it. Year 7, particularly, was pretty tough. I had gone from blissful ignorance to hell in a matter of months and I hadn't even hit puberty yet. Being the "faggot" of the school lead to a fairly isolated experience and it wasn't long until I started searching for like-minded people on the world wide web. During those years, those internet chat rooms were my safe place and made me feel like I wasn't a freak of nature. I would sneak into my dad's office, dial-up the internet (remember the days of dial up!?) and chat with strangers across the country and the world. My eyes and experiences were opening before me. I remember pacing up and down the hallway of my house in Year 8, panicking, realising the gravity of the situation, wondering, "why me"? Wishing, pleading with God for things to be different. Couldn't I be normal? Couldn't I fit in? I begged, tears streaming down my face. I was confused, emotional and incredibly lonely. In hindsight, a lot of the issue was principle. For me it felt like I was giving in to the bullies; by coming out I was confirming their suspicions and reinforcing their bullish behaviour that I was different. I didn't have any gay friends as a teenager and those web sites were my security blanket, so it was no surprise I reached out for local gay guys to connect with. By the time I was 17, the hormones had kicked in and I met a gentleman, ten years my senior. We quickly struck up a friendship and soon enough, I was venturing into the unknown world of Sydney city, meeting this gentleman for the first time in a coffee shop in the Queen Victoria Building. He was gentle, understanding and he listened. At the time, it was everything I needed. Things quickly escalated and soon enough, I found myself in my first homosexual relationship. None of my friends in school knew about my antics, I was desperate to share my secret but out of fear I kept my double life hidden. I was sneaking out of my parents' house, finding excuses to make trips into the city and lying about my whereabouts. During my "twink" days, pictured with mum. Poor thing, she had to put up with so much drama. My parents were incredibly trusting, but deep down I think they knew I was struggling and was on the path to finding my own identity. I'm incredibly grateful they allowed me the freedom to figure it all out, I don't know where I would be if they hadn't. But it got to a point where the lies were becoming lies on top of lies, and my partner wasn't comfortable with our sleepovers if my parents didn't know - which they didn't. He told me that it was time to come clean, to reveal my dirty secret. It was that, or no more sleepovers. So, that day, I walked into my house, sat my mum down, and said: Mum, I'm gay. Oh, and I have boyfriend. He's 27. And lives in the city. Can I stay with him tonight? Poor mum. I don't think she was expecting it, but when I make my mind up, there's no stopping me. Dad was next, then my sister, and all were incredibly accepting of my newly-acquired status. I'm incredibly lucky and grateful. Considering the circumstances my parents were patient and open to explore the unknown. Mum comes from a fairly religious background and it's incredible watching how her views on the Church have changed in the following years. The family went through the official meet-and-greet with my partner and eventually, I was allowed to stay over his apartment and vice versa. He became a member of the family. We lasted less than six months, but to this day I owe him my sanity, my faith in men, relationships and people. It's not easy coming out, but it's not easy lying either. I knew I had an inevitable choice to make and, for me, it was better to get it out of the way, than to keep it dragging on for another five years or so. I had already wasted enough tears and time. Don't waste yours.