Faggot

The raw emotions continue to be painful. I’m still spazzing. I’m still distraught. I’m still frantic and furious. I’m working hard to shed this baggage and the image that has been branded upon me. Meanwhile, I am damaged. Mentally and physically, I am unable to cope on my own. I need support. I need help. I need an advocate.

I finally understand what it means to be a survivor. I must find my footing, pave my way, and mow over the resistance. Even if I’m all alone, I fully intend to fight for my self-worth for as long as it takes.

Skipping Rocks

The most beautiful moment I had in college (aside from the day I bought myself a vibrator or learned to make poached eggs) was when I went to the lake, picked up a flat stone the size of a driver’s license and threw it. It skipped four times, just like that. I didn’t need CJ to show me how to do it, reveal any special secret to me. In the end, I didn’t need him, didn’t want him, at all.