I really like Rap and other dope shit

Some of the rules might have changed

but the game is still the same.

different refs,

different star players,

different coaches—

even the uniforms look a little different.

but the game

is still the same.

the people chant your name.

you’re intoxicated with power.

you look around—

every color you picked

and obsessed over,

every outfit you demanded,

every person beside you,

you carefully selected.

a uniform.

the uniform.

more dangerous than the people themselves,

more dangerous than the ideology it symbolizes.

that uniform means

affirmation,

stagnation,

and in some,

indignation.

you made yourself bigger.

and now,

just by wearing that uniform,

you’re part of something bigger.

filled with stadiums of people

that love and hate the game.

rivals, friends—

souls you had to ruin

just for the people

to chant your name.

and anything you did before

is nonexistent.

you will die

with this uniform

branded on your skin.

and the best part is:

you won’t see

I wonder if it could, would my body scream to me?

Would it yell obscenities at me

and curse me for how I've treated it?

Or would it be happy that I'm well fed,

that I don't have to hunt for food?

Or would it be confused that I'm in a state of duress all the time with no predator?

Or would it explain to me lovingly why it's hard to breathe in a crowded room,

why I'm never fully rested with a full night's sleep?

Would I have to explain to my body homophobia?

Racism?

Or would it understand the idea of hatred—

that I at times hate IT as much as IT could've hated me?

Would IT understand there were nights I hated myself and they were just a byproduct?

Would IT even acknowledge me?

Or would my body just concern itself with making sure IT was coasting

like a captain with no crewmates?

Or worse—

would IT not care?

Would it cry to me for help,

screaming, kicking and clawing

to get my attention,

begging for reinforcements for an unwinnable battle,

a battle that's life or death,

one that I won't see coming until it's too late?

Would I listen?

Or would it cry to me during the wrong time

Endless, however, is my baby. It was the first album I had ever heard that had lines with a man loving another man. I wouldn't say my mind was blown at first, but I remember thinking—being uncomfortable. It was like I was at church being talked about, but my name was never mentioned.

It's not the gayest album ever, but me being in the closet and hearing someone be bisexual—how I always wanted to be—did something to me.

I remember hating how I couldn't fully connect with an artist ’cause they weren't queer. Frank was such an easy cop-out for me, but in return, he helped me find so much of myself.

Thank you, Frank, for helping me confirm something in myself and helping me feel.

It'll be a decade of Blonde, and I've still never felt the fullness of love that Frank expressed in that album. Being in my mid-20s, I thought I'd be at a point where I'd relate to it more, but nope, just digging for something that's not there. The album's still good tho 😂😂