Growing up as a little boy in a boring village in China, I still remember the exact moment I first discovered Justin Bieber. At the time, the concept of being gay wasn't even in my vocabulary; like most kids around me, I simply assumed that dating was strictly something that happened between boys and girls. Completely captivated, I dragged my parents to countless local stores, collecting an absolute mountain of Justin Bieber merchandise and CD albums—which, looking back, unexpectedly became my very first English lessons as I tried to memorize and mimic his lyrics. My parents paid it no mind at first, assuming I was just an enthusiastic young fan trying to learn his songs to impress the local village girls. Conveniently, Justin was a massive hit with the other girls in our village, so we formed our own passionate little fan club, spending hours listening to his tracks and admiring his stardom together. However, the illusion shattered when my parents realized my adoration ran much deeper than the music—I was completely infatuated with his looks. In a panic, they began confiscating chunks of my prized collection, but my persistence couldn't be broken. It was during that stubborn battle for my Bieber merch that my mom finally connected the dots, realizing long before I did that I was gay, and quietly bracing herself for whatever hilarious, embarrassing Justin Bieber phase I would drag the family.
is it too late now to say sorry?
