I guess I can't have it my way, McAsshole. It's always your way, right away. Only thinking inside the bun. I was lovin' it for a while. But sometimes you've got to break the rules. I thought we were making it great again and again. Always said to loosen up a little. But now I'll live and learn now that my tastes have grown up. The fire's ready for you to walk right into. I'd love to see you smile, but I've changed my mind. What you want is what you get and you wanted everything but me. You got thirty minutes, how fast can you pack??
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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