The next time you meet someone like me,
please do not give them the false sense of
friendship. Do not make them think you care
if you plan to leave once they start talking to you.
I mean really talking. The kind of talking you do
at three in the morning because you can't sleep because
the nightmares won't leave you alone. Please do not
befriend them if you don't plan on staying. Please tell them
if you can't handle their life. Please don't leave them for a
new group of friends you met at a church. Do not
replace them with your god. I hope your god is proud
of you. Two years of acting like you cared must have
really impressed him. So go and live for the faceless and
abandon the one who really cared about you.
Go.
Leave.

*But the next time you meet someone like me, please do not give them a false sense of friendship.

if pain is what makes the world beautiful, i choose to live a life of misery.

if cigarettes calm your anxieties, i choose
to have broken lungs.

if alchohol numbs my mind,  i choose
to have a dead liver.

if all the good things **** me, i choose
to say "goodbye".

they live between the walls

and inside of my head.

now i had a cousin named named Patrick
who had a lovely partner named Michael.
let me tell you, i did not believe in the myth of true love
until i saw the look in their eyes when they saw each other;
until i saw the way Michael looked at Patrick and the way Patrick looked back
with that tiny twinkle in the corner of his left eye.
naturally, i saw nothing wrong with the
situation. love is love and what they had was definitely
love.
they had a beautiful wedding on a beach in France
and they both still call that day,
that moment the best moment of their entire lives.
all was well and the newly weds honeymooned
all throughout Europe and the world seemed at peace.
until, they got off the plane that landed them right in Houston, Texas.
they walked out of the terminal hand-in-hand,
some "aw"ed, some looked away in disgust, but one young man
threw a balloon full of paint of my dear friend Patrick and spat on Michael
as he yelled the word "*******".
the new couple hadn't prepared themselves for this.
time continued to pass and they soon bought their
first house. a lovely little two-bedroom, 700 square foot home.
news quickly spread around the neighborhood of they new
"**** couple" down the street. one day,
Michael got home for work to find the garage
spray painted with blue ink reading, "God hates ****".
after hours of scrubbing away at the blue ink
that polluted the air, the couple finally learned a few rules.
they were not to show affection in public.
they were not to be open about their sexuality.
they were not to be themselves as long as someone else might see.
the years flew by and this love dwindled down to
nothingness.
the flame of that red glowing candle was put out.
years of avoiding public affections all for the fear
of being called a "******".
after three years of marriage the couple split.
claiming to no longer be in love, but they knew,
i knew, that they wanted to be in love.
they just didn't want to live in fear of being called the "F" word.