Of all the days, and all the places, even all the people, you found me. Sitting in the corner. Quietly reading news articles of things I never really understand. You sought me out like a cat hunting the mouse. Easy prey, or at least you thought. Little did I know, I would be your saving grace. I was like the only thing in the world you didn't know you needed. Too bad my skin was too tough for you. What have I become?? I've become just like the rest of them. Jaded and torn and emotionally constipated. And you're trailing behind, slowly but surely. Like evaporation, condensation, and precipitation. The cycle will always repeat. But for what?? At what cost?? How can I tell the world I want matrimony when I can't even survive a first date?? Mind, heart, and soul blindly closed to the happiness we both needed. I can't help to save the world when it's me who needs the saving.
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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