Recently, a turn of events has conquered my conscious. My transgender boyfriend came out to his parents as trans, and their reaction has been very volatile. They want him to break up with me, because they think he's changing himself to suit me. Yes, I'm a homosexual, and yes, I fell in love with a biological female. But I have done nothing but encourage him to be happy, and to love and support him through any and all changes necessary for him to procure happiness. They're taking him to therapy, and they're trying to divide him from me. But all they're managing to do is divide themselves from their child, for they're trying to remove me from their son's life; he doesn't want me gone. I've been there for him these many months. It's been my shoulder his head has cried on. It's been me that he seeks out when he's in despair, needing empathy. You are breaking him. He is hurting. The number of transgender youth that commit suicide each year is so high. Do you want him to be a statistic?

I have lost my respect for his parents. They want him to be a girl, but alas, he is not.

I'm weeping.

Love is such an incredible thing. We all have this idea of what love is fed to us throughout our lives; when we are birthed into this world, we experience love, see love, are taught about love. But it's hardly captured properly, I think, in books and films and other things.

    See, loving another person is almost an undescribable thing. I know that I would do anything and everything, change anything and everything, be anything and everything for for the person I love. When I first started dating my boyfriend, he called himself by a different name. A society-deemed "feminine" name.

    His whole life, everyone referred to him as a girl. Told him he was a girl. They made him behave accordingly, and told him it was wrong to act the way he wanted. They mocked him for displaying any sort of behavior that was deemed "unladylike". He learned to not trust them because they refused to be what they needed to be: supportive.

    I started hanging out with him when he still identified as a girl. At the time, he still presented as a female, but despite me being gay, I became instantly captivated by him.

    We had been friends on the internet for a long time leading up to actually spending time together. We had a foundation, we had stories to tell and memories to share. I remember there being a spark; it didn't happen when I first saw him, for I did not fall in love with his appearance. The spark happened when I began interacting with him and realized that he made my heart happy in ways that NO ONE had EVER been able to achieve.

    We started dating. At the time, I was out as "bisexual". I use quotations only because I'm actually gay, not because bisexuals don't exist. My family accepted him, but believed him to be a girl. Hell, I believed him to be a girl. A masculine one, but still a female. But then he went through this period where he identified as gender fluid, and then, eventually, came out to me as being fully Transgender.

    I'm an accepting guy. My heart, as well as my mind, is open to so many things. It didn't matter to me that his body would be changing, for I hadn't fallen in love with the body in the first place. I am gay; I seeked him out not for his body, but for the person behind the mask, who loved me unconditionally and aided me through all of my life's struggles, of which there are many. I accepted him, calling him by his pronouns, his new name, and doing my best to make him comfortable.

    I experienced fear, but only because his body and voice - which I'd grown so accustomed to - would be changing once he began transition. I was worried that he would become unfamilliar; but one thing doesn't change: a person's heart.

    Ultimately, I learned that it's my duty to be there for him always; I learned that my love needs to be steadfast and that it can't waver. He needs me just as much as I need him; we serve as life-lines for each other, and can only thrive with each other.

    Love, to me, is blind to gender. Although I'm gay, and am only attracted to the male body, I fell in love with a biological female. I knew that I could spend my life with him like that, a woman, because I cared infinitely about him. Now, I know he is a man, and nothing has changed.

    I will encourage him and support him until my light stops. And even then I hope he clutches onto me, hears my voice in his ear when he's burdened, and knows that I loved him unquenchably and irrevocably.

    That's love.

This is not a poem, just letting you know.

Do I believe in a god?
The short answer: not really.

    Now, allow me to expand. I can't believe in a god anymore. Evolution is very understandable, if you really open your mind to it. The idea isn't that humans evolved directly from monkeys, but that monkeys and humans share a common ancestor. Other than that, according to the bible, Earth is a lot younger than is reasonable; scientists are able to test dirt, and rock, to date the age of our planet. Many Christians believe the earth to be only 6000 - 15000 years old. That is ridiculous. By testing ancient rock in Australia, scientists have determined that Earth is probably around 4.54 billion years old.

    Another scientific reason that I believe God, and religion, is probably malarkey, is that there isn't a single speck of proof. Supposed miracles aren't proof. Faith is not proof. There is NO proof. Also, the fact that scientists can strip down most anything and look at the chemicals and other substances that make it up seems to go against the idea that an all-powerful, perfect creator poofed everything into existence. Scientists are able to explain how everything happens - gravity, orbiting, radiation, etc.

    If it was all created by a magical being, I think it'd be impossible to analyze and pick apart the way we've managed to. We've managed to cure diseases, increase life spans, and do remarkable things with science, and yet it is all dismissed. There are more scientific reasons I don't believe, but let's move on.

    I also have ethical objections; I don't believe that an "all-loving" god would subject young children to cancer, ravage innocent people with natural disasters, or **** a bunch of Egyptian adults/children because the pharaoh refuses to listen to God. That's right, I'm citing Exodus 11:5, when God proclaims that all first-born sons will die if the pharaoh will not allow the Jewish people to leave.

    I don't understand how an all-loving god would allow ******, ****, and other atrocities. I don't understand why an all-loving god would create some of his children as homosexuals only to **** them for something that they cannot alter. I don't understand why an all-loving god would proclaim women as inferior, and say that slaves must be obedient to their masters. I believe that we are at a point, as the human species, that these things and whether they're ethical is being brought to the fore-front of discussion.

    Quite simply: I don't believe in God. I can't anymore, and I refuse to even entertain the idea. If there is a god, he is either cruel, or very detached and nonchalant. Others may believe as they want, but I believe that the wrong type of religious people are holding us back as a species; preaching hate, delivering scripture meant to inferiorate and belittle people with differences. If religion can alter itself, and become more facilitating, more loving, more encouraging, then perhaps it will no longer hold us back.

    But right now, it is. And that's MY belief.

I love him. I love his heart. He, like so many people in this world, has been beaten down and forced to harden his shell. He strangles his emotions and locks them under key, and how am I, me, supposed to fix that? I'm the same way. I drift so emptily through my life because of uncontrollable strife and I... I just don't know how to regain a sense of purpose, feel some motivation, muster the ability to have some sort of elation. My pen used to bleed for me but now my skin is what's bleeding and I'm just so hurt and unhappy with the life that I'm hardly leading. I'm not a painter and I can't turn this ruby red blood into a painting, but I can write about it, record it, instead of under the pressure fainting. I'll do my best to stand strongly for him, for if we don't have each other, we have nothing. Maybe we can help each other blossom again, and be as healthy and pure and whole and perfect as we once were. I imagine it's possible, just difficult, to survive this; but a future with him is one I don't wish to miss.

im going insane
i cant feel the pain
theres nothing to gain
blood is a stain
how do i refrain