February 14th is coming. Yay. *twirls finger in the air* Woohoo.
I'm sorry, that was immature of me. You see, I need to
1) Come out to the rest of my school and work or at least hang out with the glibbutz (what i decided to call GLBT ppl) and
2) Work up the courage to ask some ppl out.
*Brief aside* It's raining outside. It's winter. Those two don't usually go together, but since they are today, I'm very excited. There's nothing more relaxing to me than going to sleep while listening to the rain patter on the roof through the open window.
Bah. Who knows, maybe if i just move at my own pace i'll find someone in time for prom. Shrug.
Here's something i wrote when i was rather depressed. I was thinking about sending it in to the Editor of my high school newspaper.
The rain is coming down in torrents; mmm.
Silence is what I am. Silence is what I came to be because I have been subjugated to be it. On the basis of something innate, something natural, I have been degraded; as if I were not capable of reasoning and logic, love and compassion. Yet an injustice is thrust upon me.
Never before in my life have I experienced ennui, except for the last decade of my life. This depression, now slightly diminished, I still continue to bear, though not without the expected wounds and scars. It is at night, in my daily pilgrimages to the safe confines of my own thoughts, when I begin to heal. This asylum, which has for so many years guarded my sanity and my life, is one of the last refuges where I can safely go as myself, not as whom I pretend to be. The frightening thought is that this ennui and injustice does not limit itself to me and me alone, but rather it preys on an estimated ten percent of the population.
There are those of us who face insecurity and intolerance in our lives daily, hourly. It is because of this hostility we keep our mouths silent; afraid to stand up out of fear of being ridiculed, taunted, and ostracized. The fear of being one