Sometimes one just needs to realise one’s own insecurities. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I just want this pain documented, this pain to be recorded, this pain to be always here, there, everywhere, nowhere. Today someone hurled a look at me. For looking gay. And it hurt. Boy did it fucking hurt.
That look. This brute. This uneducated speck of grime on the lowliest plain of society thought that he had the slightest right to even look at me. To judge me in the slightest capacity. For wearing a button up shirt. Done up all the way to the top. And I hate him. But at the same time, I just don’t care. It’s what I’ve come to expect. This kind of scum. This scum thinking they can judge me. Thinking they have the slightest right to even look at me with those eyes that say that they do not care.
And it’s not just him. It’s most people at the godforsaken hell hole that is Trinity. Like the other day, a boy laughed at me for sounding like a girl. Honestly, fuck off. Like he thinks that he, a tragic commoner, has the slightest room to judge. No he doesn’t. None of them do. I am who I am. And they are the fuckers who they are. That is all there is to it.