Tag Archives: gay

I’m tired

(via Pinterest)

I’m tired because I don’t get enough sleep, if I could help it I would. I’m tired of preaching to my sisters to close the tap properly, don’t they know how much water is being wasted? I’m tired of the judgmental people in my society who have no business in my affairs. I’m trying to learn how to ignore them, because they don’t matter. Of course I have opinions too but it’s up to you if you give a damn. I am tired of feeling weak and unable because I really know that’s a lie but sometimes lies feel really real.

I am tired of being sad and depressed of teenagers, and adults also, committing suicide ending their lives out of shame for one reason or another under pressure from peers and even neighbours. For being gay and unable to change that without hurting themselves, for being introverted and teased for being that way. Because they were being themselves.

Correct me if I am wrong but I get the general impression (via media) that we are being encouraged to be who we are, to not pretend to fit in because it is hurtful to us. Where is the sense in this opposition? Probably it’s because Continue reading

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Why didn’t I raise my hand?

via Pinterest, click to see

It was my last year of high school, there was this guy, a pastor (Mr. Fingle?) from the US had come to give us a lecture on acceptance, loving and respecting ourselves and a few other things along those lines. I can remember what seemed to be the entire fifth form seated to the front of the auditorium, quietly listening to this confident and passionate man. I think the silence had to do with him being a stranger and a foreigner, the only white man (and very pink from the heat) in the gathering of brown and ebony. Plus no one would ever want to stand up in front of everyone and given the high chance of messing up.

I remembered feeling empowered somehow, his words excluded this contagious energy that was meant to affect me. I can’t say the same for the other kids, half of whose faces are blurs in my mind today, quiet yes, but not necessarily listening. I’ve always made a point to pay attention especially to guests like Mr. Fingle, it’s not often people around here will talk about this stuff, to address these feelings we feel, why we feel them and how we think we should react to them.

I’m afraid up to now I have been vague on what were some of the things he said, mostly because I found that a lot from that day has blanked out from me probably because one particular topic he mentioned proceeded to take up my thoughts from then on. There was this guy sitting right in front of me, let’s call him Nash. Mr. F walked over and pointed to him and asked everyone, “Okay, let’s for a minute pretend that this young man happened to be gay. Which one of you would be his friend?”

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Picture it and Write: Behind the scenes

This is my piece for this week’s Picture it and write! entry. I wanted to write fiction on the following themes for a long time this prompt gave me an opening. It has a lot of teenage sentiments thrown in and a couple of names girls would throw around. In other words, it has a few swears in here. No F-bombs, be assured, and also one R rated scene. Be warned.

via Ermilia Blog, click to see mother post.

via Ermilia Blog, click to see mother post.

One more year. It was a chant at the back of my head that kept me moving along to the motions of the living for the past two years. High school takes a toll on everybody and it was killing me like slow poison. Labels, labels, labels. The hate was a stale perfume in the air but it gets intense when the rival cliques pass each other in the hall or the cafeteria. Jerk jocks, hulking around like they were God’s gift to us fawning women. I’d really like to think about the good parts of these people but they prove me wrong. Just one more year. Twelve months and twenty days, fourteen hours, twenty five minutes and 30 seconds, give or take a few, and counting. 

I have two best friends, both of whom were guys, and as time crawled on I learned it wasn’t something that was very common these days  unless you were a tomboy which I suppose I was but not in the strictest sense, or if you were gay. The other kids call me names I don’t care for, Don and Patch were just friends. We would all laugh about it at the end of the day, it’s something you learn to live with and it’s not that hard once you know yourself but I came a long way from the insecure girl I once was, the world was way scarier then.

I was in the locker room washing off from tennis practice. I stepped out of the shower and reached for my towel. I wasn’t alone as I thought I was. I hurried up and dried off, not wanting anyone to see my nakedness and make use of some snarky comment they no doubt practiced a hundred times in their little heads. I grabbed my things but my glasses were clouding up with the steam and by the time I got them reasonably clear I realized I was heading in the wrong direction.

The door was on the opposite side of the room, I was moving to the source of the soft sounds. I’m sure I would regret this later but I peeked around the last row of lockers. Well, I’ll be damned. I spied with my two foggy eyes Continue reading

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