Hey, remember that time you lost your mind and told me to go to hell?

Or do you remember that other time when you called me a f** and acted like it didn’t happen or how that was something you could do cause it sounded like something you would do but couldn’t place cause you were a little drunk? Except only when you were trying to remember though, not when you said it.


You see I’ve been called a f** before but not by someone that I’ve also called a friend. I’ve been called a f** by complete strangers, many times.

The words that come out of your mouth speak truth. Did you know that? The sound of fear and ignorance. Maybe they say more about you then you are willing to admit.

Like how I’m afraid to admit things about myself. For example, how I used to deny that I was a homosexual.

You see I really and truly believe I was born this way. I don’t exactly know when I really knew but some of my earliest memories are of my childhood crushes. There’s just something in the way Tom Cruise shakes a martini in Cocktail that just made me blush something fierce. I didn’t think my innocent crushes as anything perverse until someone as ignorant as you decided to point out the fact that they made me different.

That was in seventh or sixth grade maybe. I wonder about your maturity level sometimes myself?

Regardless, my understanding of my sexuality should have been my experience.

As soon as I was identified by my classmates as different. That’s when I began to feel different and identify myself as such. That’s when I learned shame and felt weak. It’s in piss poor judgement to go around throwing stones when there is so much else in the world that deserves your attention.

My taste in men should not be one of them.

Having said that, I know that my experience growing up is still quite different from other stories I have been told. I was never a victim of violence. I was lucky and the same cannot be said for others.

I punished myself in my own way until I figured out that nothing was wrong with me. You cannot easily teach someone to respect themselves, mind and body, once you’ve made it a point to make them understand they are not worthy of love and kindness. And no one is excluded from that pain. I file that under lessons learned and have since made it a point not to hate myself for being so fabulous although I still sometimes embarrass myself.

I have to remind myself daily that people as bold as you who still find ways to make me feel inferior to them are wrong. I’ll be a misfit every day of the week if it means I’m tough enough to stand up to bullies and say something when no one else is willing to speak. I am different because I’m not like you. I can be strong when you choose to be weak.


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