He was still young.
not old enough knowing who was in the mirror when he looked.
His green eyes, unnatural blond hair, and bushy hairy eyebrows, that was still dark brown
Bright red jeans,
jewelry that was for girls,
shoe laces that are rainbow colors,
Talk about gay?
He didn’t care,
he knew people talk about him,
he knew people looked at him
but all at the same time
he knew they would never talk to him,
they would never meet his eyes when he tried looking at them.
He knew that he was different.
He had no face book.
No social media, only books, and his headphones.
He was a rebound for a guy at one point.
But the guy had left, the kid, going back to his ex-boyfriend.
He hated how people told him he shouldn’t act the way he act because it was the “typical gay guy”
he thought them saying that was just the “the typical straight people” saying.
he wasn’t representing gay guys.
He was just being himself.
So why did they have to look and stare?
A question he ask himself everyday.
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