I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
If I wasn't gay would people care?
Would they actually let me breath the same air?
Could I actually go to school,
without people being so cruel?
Could I live in a world with no hate?
Maybe people would love me if I was straight.
It's not as easy as people think.
I can't just go to a shrink.
I didn't choose to be this way.
You really think I'd want to be gay?
I don't want attention,
I don't want fame.
This isn't some sort of game.
I am who I am and thats okay.
Most people don't see it that way.
I only wish I could be the same.
To have a wedding and it not be shamed.
I want to have kids and not be judged.
I don't want my reputation smudged.
But apparently I'm different now.
Sick in the head somehow.
Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed.
How did I get put into this mix?
Toxic and tragic,
that's my life.
It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife.
I'm gay,
what's wrong with that?
I get treated like some rat.
Using your holy books and your religion.
To fight against something that makes no difference.
I want to be a human not a punching bag.
Always getting called a ***
Let that word have power and it gets to you.
But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
I love being this way.
I don't care what you say.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Cutting
Choose your spot
Cutting
Shine it nice
Cutting
Pretend your real
Cutting
Shed a tear
Cutting
Let the blade arrive
Cutting
Give direction
Cutting
Sigh your perfect sigh
Cutting
Show your shallow smile
Cutting
Bleed alone
Cutting
Die alone.....
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
Her blood ran deep
So did her cuts.
She loved seeing the blood slowly seep from her wrists
and she covered them up
She broke glass and cut too deep
Her scars are what hold her past-
-Or what's left of it.
She never told anybody
She thought she deserved it.
Now, a year clean, her scars show her
fears
faults
memories
weaknesses.
But she's proud.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Cutting
Blood flooding like rain
Emotions slowly draining my mind
Feel the sting of abandonment
Burning off negativity
Soft hands
Cover them
Band aids heal all wounds
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
She looks around to see if there's anyone watching her.She quickly runs to the bathroom with tears filling her eye. The flashbacks are back again of what she used to call love. She locks herself in one of the bathroom and quietly the tears pour out, too oblivious to the pain she's feeling inside.
Out she pulls her only comfort, her friend and her relief. The blade so sharp digs into her skin cutting, cutting away the heavy thoughts, the nightmares, the fear, the pain she refuses to face yet she knows the blade she cuts with is her only protection from them.
The blade is there to take all the pain away, slowly , surely she lies to herself.
Her cuts deepen without her realising or thinking about the immense dripping of blood.
Suddenly it all disappears, the pain slowly fades away, her blade, her friend has fulfilled its job once again.
Its all over she say.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
*Cutting was the only way i could function.
From the superficial cuts down to the super deep ones
The scars all have a story to tell
A period of life i can not take back
They remind me of what i have fought through.
They also encourage me not to give others power
They do not deserve by bleeding out my pain
But to use my voice.
Then there is the factor of cutting
Because i simple enjoy watching myself bleed
And feeling myself release...*
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC