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You want to be accepted so badly that you preyed on the venerability that you held witness to, lucky you. I gave you a conversation starter, I cracked open the closet and you stormed your way in with your bouncing laugh that everyone would forgive but how can I forget when I look at my friends and the girls I see have the thought behind their foreheads that we're not the same. They would think that I am more similar to you, I might not be treated differently but the thought that I can't be the same as them is enough for me to hate what I am and hate what you have done. Think.
You gave out my story before I was ready, not just mine but other 'friends' lives tales that you sold for your indulgence, he nor he was ready to believe himself in what he is and I certainly am not so what is your excuse? It came us in conversation and your sexuality isn't a big deal at all because you should live your truth. I am not ready to live my truth, I am not ashamed for what I am because I understand myself but I am scared for how the relationship that I have with other people will change because they won't understand. It's all good and well to tell me to be brave and to snip and cut at my relationships with people who don't like what I am, but I shouldn't have to be pushed into that you insufferable bastard.
Your trauma is not insignificant but perhaps I'm just saying that to soften the blow that you are a bad person - does that make me a bad person for accepting your excuse? Writing is my honesty and your hand works but your brain does not, why is this character you've become so negative? Vibe check.
I shared something with her that you intruded on, it was natural until I felt like myself and took up the persona that I play, I need to work on removing the other she in order to become her. You opened the curtain on a woman allergic to light, she became overpowered and recoiled into her confirmative shell, so as to not show her ugly parts that are not yet pretty because she is still in the womb, but what you did was an emergency caesarean. The emergency: your big mouth.
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