have you ever worked super hard on something (a poem, a drawing, a whatever) and then been super proud of it, only to have someone you know tell you they don't like it? it kinda sucks. so basically i worked really hard yesterday on editing some photos that i took of myself and i was pretty happy with them, so i put a few of the best on deviantart (you can can see them all through the link on my profile to my photobucket). i was getting a few nice comments and some favorites on a few of the pics, and then my friend comes and says "the faces you're making are dumb.
I'm thinking of starting a gay collab channel on youtube. Don't know what this is? Check out lezzismore or closetcollab. :) if either of these channels looks like anything you'd want to be a part of, email me at email@example.com. It's gonna be seven day a week thing, one person a day. I already have myself and one gay guy I know on board for sure, so that leaves 5 places still open. I have a few maybe's too, so hurry and get back to me! And of course, we'll need fillers somedays, so you can be on stand by for that. So please email me if you're interested!!!
...just to see if I still can. Sometimes I think she broke my heart beyond repair. She toyed with me and fucked with my head. She told me she loved me, but she was always saying how happy so-and-so made her. She rarely told me I made her happy. Infact, I don't think she ever did. Just looking at her made ma happy. She was the first girl I ever loved. I wanted to be with her...sometimes I still do. I think about all the times we shared and how RIGHT being with her felt after all those boys...if it wasn't for her, I'd still be in the closet. She's a huge part of me. But she was also a bitch.
I hate it when people say "You made the choice to be gay". I did not make the "choice". I just AM. I didn't wake up one morning and say "You know what, I wanna be gay!" That's not how it works. I didn't even wake up one morning and say "Hey, I am gay". It took time and a lot of getting to know myself to really finaly be comfortable with the fact and it feels like an insult to have someone say I chose it. Do they not understand that it would be easier if I liked boys? I wouldn't have to deal with the hate and the fear and I would never feel like I had to hide who I am.
...To write something about me. I usually just hide behind my stories and poems, but I guess I can tell you a bit about myself.
'if you stay out here in the cold all night, you'll die.' you said, taking my hand in yours, bringing my fingers to your lips. 'your hands are like ice.' i didn't look up at you because, although my hands may have been cold, your touch made the rest of me catch on fire.