Let's all get naked

Strange Sighting

Sometimes… Sometimes, I want to write. Write about us, write about them. Write about love and also pain. Then, I get scare, I get scare of what people might say and I know that I’m wrong for being this way but no matter how hard I try, it seems like my negative mind is stronger every day. So, I don’t write.

I keep everything inside and I know I’m wrong for being this way but you wouldn’t understand because, because?…

I feel like I have so much to say, like the time my homie committed suicide because they were picking on him for being gay. I was friends with him since 6 grade and in seven he told me he was gay, but to me he was a real man. He was my wing man, and I swear I miss you man, because nothing has been the same ever since you left. You thought me how to lose my fear of talking to girls, and showed me how to love and respect them.

I remember my mom used to hate that you were my best friend because she would say that “hanging out with a gay guy would make me gay” not knowing that thanks to you I got laid with the pretties girl I’ve ever met.

I also remember that time I got jumped for talking to the wrong girl, oh man oh man I won’t forget how you got all of our friends and rushed to defend me, help me up the floor and told me “stop being a faggot and lets kick some ass man” so we did. We got spelled for a week but we were cracking up at the deans and on that week we would play nintendo 64 and smoke weed.