I enjoy filling in the gaps of my memories. From a young age, I've always enjoyed the art of writing, but over the years made excuses for creating time to work on it. Now, as I grow older, I just want to recall the emotions of the moments, the intervals, really, of the memories that still haunt me.
I decided to post my coming out letter on here because I thought it might help somebody else going through the same things that I currently am. It is a tough thing to go through, because for every physical change endured there are about ten mental and emotional changes that take place. Please do not read this if you're only going to post homophobic remarks and obscenities and whatnot; it really isn't going to do anybody any good.
I will be posting just about anything that pours out of my head, be it song lyrics, iambic pentameter, or short stories. This is some allegorical prose I created at the bright hour of 4 AM, stimulated by the last of a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 and the beginning signs of a deep bronchial infection.
This was for the Writing Challenge back in May that I only just actually got around to doing because I didn't have the words. I didn't know how to tell my best friend that I was angry at him for not being alive anymore. I didn't know how to tell him that I was furious because in the almost two years that he's been gone, it hasn't gotten any easier.