The confluence of diametrically opposed leads to an upheaval of humongous magnitude

Today is repost day
it's official
I'm reading and posting at a furious pace
I will share your words until your name is all I see
the ones I loved, the ones you hate, the ones I missed.
Each one a blessing to my eyes and heart.
I do this, not for you but for me.
Me, your friend
sat in disbelief that your name will be no more
that you will no longer sing the words of your heart into my eager soul.
This campaign of hate that has brought about the end, I will **** it's author to hell.
I hope they read this and smile, it will not linger, trust me.
They may hide behind walls and throw stones at your heart, their yellow bellies jiggling with laughter while your tears stain your skin, your light dimmed by their spite.
There is such cruelty in this place of beauty and love.
So today will be filled with you, in the hope that you see that you are so much better than they say you are, in every way. You are loved. You belong here. They do not.

Cigarettes & candy are great tools for propaganda.
But ***,
cancer and rotten teeth ****.
Good Samaritans my ***.

Within myself I know there's two.
Of who? Of me.
I watch while one takes hold.
One is meek, one is bold.
One is sweet, one is selfish.
One is kind, one is evil.
Which one I am on any given day,
depends in part, on which one I've fed,
and what diet I've served it.
Was it vitriol or humility?
Was it hate or love?
Was it just or unjust?
Was it sweet or sour?
I'll not know until the hour one of two is called.

"Have you had any firsts with me at all?" I ask, breath catching and a sadness coming over me as I realize there's not one thing unique about me.

The silence after my question spreads out and latches onto my heart, concreting the idea that I'm nothing special after all.

You flounder, trying to come up with something, anything, but you have not one occasion to offer me.

You possess so very many of my firsts, and I felt there was something important in the act of giving them to you.

But my sweetest memories are quickly tainted by the realization that many others before me gifted you with the same, their own firsts.

And I can't help but feel *****, used, and alone. For a while there, I really thought I was special.

What a joke.