That unwanted touch never felt so good. For the pain of the game is only for the love of playing. And just as Romeo pursed his lips to drink to his inevitable death, something clicks in every tenth graders head. This isn't true love. This is passionate lust from the minds of hormonal, trust fund kids that is only for mere attention. But what is the point?? Shakespeare, why thou writeth this tragedy?? To remind civilization that we only want what we can't have, or better yet, what we are told is bad for us. Cause where is the fun in living, if we are gonna die anyway??
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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