I have not learned the touches of love until now. We come
into this world, molested and no one ever tells us its wrong. We just grow up realizing
that we’re fucked up. People look at us as if we have been compromised by evil
when we make mistakes. Love has to be taught. We do not come into the world
knowing love. It’s how parents, our leaders, our society’s responsibility to
enforce rules of the heart not our bodies. Government molests our bodies,
sometimes with religion, tells us how to or not to use them. However, it doesn’t
teach the bodily functions of love.
Our bodies are abused by the words of hate, entrapment, and dysfunction.
We’re scared to touch, we’re scared to love, we fear love. Hate has molested
us and our country has allowed it. But, the people can know love. We can learn it on our own.
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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