She is black and I am white.
I work in the kitchen most of the time and she works the cash register every night. She is a lesbian and I am bisexual.
I met her wife and kids. Great people. We were both new at the gas station then we became best friends in the matter of weeks.
We keep each other sane. I appreciate and enjoy every hour I get to spend with her. She calls me her favorite person.
She keeps me human and I am glad met her. I knew the first day I met her, she was one of a kind.

Dark blue sky and icy wind blowing against the library.
Silence as the sky turns a deeper shade of blue.
Listening to music and thinking about the Sweet Girl's smile.
And how the night sky looks like her eyes.

With it tattered and mended.
True colors revealed in its scars.
Wild rhythms and melodies.

With Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder they cancel each other out.
I can't always be emotionless and I can't always be a hot mess of emotions.
I express everything in a brutally honest way.
I don't always know when I cross someone's boundaries because I like getting into the deep, soulful things.
I forget the rules of communication a lot because I am curious as every writer is. I enjoy finding truths in the darkness.
I don't have a filter for all of my thoughts. They spill out all at once.
People find it weird for my young age that I seek knowledge from books in the library rather than online resources.
I search deeply for answers to my life's questions from the library because stories ring with truths. I am rebellious I don't want answers from my parents all of the time. Normally my researches are fruitful.
If I know what I am searching for then I am on the right path. On the right mindset. You can't be lost if you know which direction you are going.

I push my issues your way you give a death glare and ask for my opinion on things.
I become the opposite of you and you think something is wrong with me.
I am someone you don't want to mess with. You ask for a war of wits, I will see how you can last with my iron clad stubbornness and everlasting defiance. I don't need to wear a mask to be vigilante, I have nothing to cover up. I am the Crazy Writer so I will bring an army with me and I won't hold back anything. My words are so sharp that you will bleed from a sentence. I wave my flag in honor to be a rebel.

It seems as though I am constantly go through a revolving door.
One moment I am on the inside, at peace.
The next moment I am on the outside, thrown into the wild.
I feel dizzy, euphoric and new.
With a new sense of strength and confidence.
I metaphorically gaze at myself in the glass and I see what I can be.
I can see the struggle within myself but I also see the relief of not conforming to the gender binary.
I am still getting used to being gender fluid because some days it feels as if I have fallen from sky, crashing into a new challenge.
But I enjoy the thrill of it because not every day is the same.

I change the game so he can be confused.
I have mental strategies that make him vulnerable like compassion, empathy, loving and caring about him.
I have emotional strength that makes him feel as though I am complex when my needs are simple.
Friendship is basically good communication and socializing which are my thing. He doesn't even know how to have a good, deep conversation with a stranger.
When I am Unapologetically Myself, he have free will because it's in my instincts to be a good friend.

Pitter patter
The Rain hits the road
roarrr
The Thunder rolls in the sky

Only Cowards are afraid to say I love you.
Only Cowards force you to kiss them.
Only Cowards make loving them the hardest thing in the world.
Only Cowards aren't able to cross the line of sanity.
Only Cowards don't know how to kiss passionately.
Only Cowards have no direction to their lives.

As Lewis Carroll puts Insanity, "You're entirely bonkers. But I will tell you a secret. All the best people are."- Alice in Wonderland
I know comparing myself to Alice Kingsley is very cliche'. But this is how I imagine myself on the crazy scale. I create worlds to escape reality and Alice always dreamt of a world where escaping reality to embrace her insanity is her muchness. As they say in the Flash, "I have always believed in the impossible. Then I became the impossible." I know those are two different stories. You can't compare a mad woman to the fastest man alive. Well it's creative rights so technically I can. Doing insane things is impossible. Being insane is perpetually making your own reality to fit the stories you hear about yourself. Insanity is allowing yourself to be who you are without questioning what you are. Being the first person to point out someone's reality without making yourself an **** is an art form. The strongest form any human can craft in. Insanity is doing something so crazy that no one believes you can do it until it happen then you are branded a genius.

Dark brown hair, and dark brown eyes.
Dark pink lips and pale skin.
She slept with me for one night, months ago.
She liked how timid I was at church for Saturday night service.
She was so focused that night. She was gentle with me.
I still see her at church. After that night she got a boyfriend and nowadays she is married to that guy.
As the church would have it she became a virtuous woman for her husband.
While I am just myself: a bisexual poet.

Being called weird is an honor and a compliment.
I have been crazy and delusional before which I find to be part of my mental illnesses. Being bipolar and schizophrenic isn't an easy thing.
It's confusing. It's being overemotional and emotionless at the same time. It's being split into two personalities. It's being the empathetic friend and the stand offish alpha female of a group.
It's being analytical and warm while being close off and not trusting anyone. It's being thoughtful and not caring at all.
It's drowning in feelings and living in drought of feeling in the same day.

Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, to see a beautiful sunset you have to walk up a steep hill.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, to see the beautiful night sky you need a blanket to lay down in the grass.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, to get to know a beautiful girl you have to be courageous and ask questions.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, to love a beautiful girl you have to see beyond yourself and care for her as though she is the most important thing in your life because she might be.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, to kiss a beautiful girl is to experience your heart race, all of time stop for that moment and you hold her in your arms. For a split second all that matters is she loves you and only you in that moment.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, when a beautiful girl tells you that she loves you that is when you know she is worth it. Not because all those years you waited to hear from her but because she called you to tell you. And that beautiful girl hangs up before you get a chance to say it back, breaks your heart.
Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, that is my love story with a beautiful girl. I still think about her to this day. She is still alive just not from my town.

I know movies start off with a quirky girl. Otherwise known as the Manic Pixie Dream Girl Trope. Not all weirdoes are like that. We weirdoes come in all shapes, sizes, personalities and colors. Guys can be weirdoes too. I know so. This isn't about fixing a boring ***, depressive guy who can't get his **** together. This is about Hollywood wanting to objectify a person with dyed pink or blue hair to make a romantic narrative. This is about calling out Hollywood on it's abusive romantic narratives. You can't follow someone around forever like a puppy with a tight leash; that's called stalking.
You can't quilt someone to love you; that's called emotional abuse.
You can't force someone to kiss you; that's called ****** assault.
You can't act like someone else by stealing their life; that's called identity fraud. You can't lie on your resume; that's called lying. These are the plot holes Hollywood forget. Do better Hollywood.
The ****** Always Cares! Unless you objectify them you are in for a rude awakening.

I may be crazy and I like the high from pain meds and CBD give me.
I am not addicted to drugs. I just enjoy the few fours of the giddiness I get. It's just occasionally when I have a migraine from loud noises and when my anxiety acts up I will take a couple of Advil.
I only put CBD lip balm on my lips when I need a quick pick me up.
Those don't interfere with my mental meds.
I know how to take care of myself. I do my research. I know what I am doing.

I learned most things quickly now that I have a job.
The simple things are easy to earn when the person you are friends with mutually cares for and loves you.
Not through manipulation. Not through co-dependency.
Not through personal gain. Not through allowing rumors to spread.
Not through letting yourself be vulnerable while the other person reveals nothing at all. Not through them guilting you to trust them.
Not through believing their ******* thinking they are better than anyone. Because friendship and love in general is a selfless thing which worth everything that it costs when you aren't being taken advantage of by people who can't humble themselves to the point of mutual respect and equality of effort.
Because friendship and love in general requires both people understanding nonsense of life by which the small things are the big things. Because friendship and love in general isn't about selfishly taking the feelings of love as an illusion since love itself is a reality of becoming greater for the good of the friendship.
Maybe I am not mad for wanting simple things and becoming mature at a young age.
Maybe I am just better at seeing through people's masks because I know what real friendship is.

Warm sun and the snow is melting.
Still frigid but with a warmth that is homely.
Even though my hometown never really felt like home to me until now because I have a job where they don't mind that I am openly bisexual.
My hometown don't mind that I am openly bi. Yet my church and my mom minds because to them it's different and what is different needs to be silenced.
It's like outside, warm from the sun but cold from the snow.

Darling don't go too far away for the luminous moon can't take away the love I have for you.
Darling for my abstract heart may be tattered and mended I can't stop thinking about you.
Darling for our eclipse is only a few seconds, they are precious moments to me.
Darling, keep gazing at me for I will always love you.

When you figure out that all those years of being friends is emotional abuse then those really good memories feel like betrayal.
When you know that your Christian best friend rebukes you for coming out as bisexual three years ago then you know she lied about how good she is.
When you know your atheist ex-boyfriend only says he can't live without you because he threatened to **** himself many times after several fights in the past as friends.
I have known him for 4 years and her for 9 years. Healing is messy I know. I know that I can't trust either of them because their expectations of me are polar opposites.
When you someone isn't good for you it hurts at first and the panic attacks keep happening from distancing yourself from all of the memories. Sometimes the things that are too good to be true is a lie and their masks fall off where all there is left is huge conflicting mixed emotions swirling in your gut.
When you know that they are monsters of their own making and you have nothing to do with it. The blame isn't on you it is on them for their treatment of you.

Long ago, the night you resurrected me.
I was dead for not that long.
You were pressing on my chest and using your breaths to bring me back. When I came back to life:
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You cuddled with me the rest of the night. Then left in the morning.

Having Both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia growing up was difficult.
My imagination was wild and I used to trust people easily.
I was competitive playing Pokemon on the DS light. I was a videogame addict and my childhood best friend was as obsessed as I was. Videogames were easy and life was hard.
I was a sensitive kid if I was yelled at I would cry, if I was angry I would cry, if I was really sad I would cry.
I didn't like being controlled by my overbearing mother so I rebelled every now and then. Sometimes I went stoic which didn't last long because my emotions used to control me. I could feel every emotion deeply because anger felt like wildfire, guilt felt like a weight on my chest, sadness felt like winter, joy felt like a day in spring, pain felt like a knife cutting through my heart and grief felt like I was stuck in darkness forever.
Having Both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia meant I kept my most trusted friends distant from me when I went manic, depressed or angry because I thought I was protecting them from me.
I thought since I was so scared of them seeing me crazy they would abandon me for having mood swings, for being empathetic, for seeing the good in people and for caring too much.
I was wrong in the best way my most trusted friends still love me even though I am medically insane because they are geniuses and to be genius you have be insane in some way.

Those deep, dark blue eyes still echo remnants of our love.
Even it was an old love.
Those crimson lips, how I remember kissing those lips.
You came to check up on me while I was at work yesterday.
That dark tan skin, I remember it's softness.
I remember that defined muscles beneath that t-shirt.
I still remember your kind soul. And I remember you helped me through a panic attack when I used to work at Casey's.
I am glad that I met someone like you all those years ago. You are someone so endearing. I know you are my ex-girlfriend but if you are reading this thanks for all those years ago.

The Church I Don't Belong In because if they knew I am bisexual I would be a martyr.
The Church I Don't Belong In I volunteer for events for my church all the time but I feel I don't belong in my church.
The Church I Don't Belong In, sure I was raised in that church but I am not straight as they all expect me to be. Because if they knew that I am bisexual they would look at me differently.
The Church I Don't Belong In, sure they are my friends but they don't know the real me. I have ex-girlfriends which would shock many of my church friends.

I have to choose between Chelsie and The Mystery Girl.
Two sisters alike in destiny and love.
Now I know how Hamilton felt with Eliza and Angelica.
I have a type. How do I choose between my first queer love and the girl I met a few months ago? I don't know what the right decision is.
Normally I let my heart decide and now even my heart is confused.

I saw you at the coffee shop yesterday.
You were with your boyfriend.
I am glad you moved on.
You said, "I don't regret we had and would do it again."
I am glad we are still friends.
You smiled at me and I smiled back.
Your boyfriend was jealous of how you looked at me.
Thank you for defending me to your boyfriend.

It was freshman year of college. We kissed there was no spark. We lasted a week. You wanted to get married to me and kids with me on day 3. I didn't see that future. You tried to killed me in your car several times going at top speeds because you were angry at something. You texted me multiple times you wanted to **** yourself. I came out to you as bisexual after we broke up. We stayed friends somehow you got worse. You became a sexist ***** because of college. You slap my **** when you want attention. You talk about sleeping with my friends. You make jokes about my sexuality. You generally make me uncomfortable. I am your only friend. I am glad we broke up when we did. I can't deal with this. You are toxic and I know I should leave at some point. You think everyone want to use you for money which is pessimistic on a multitude of levels. Even "The Beast" inside of me can't stand you and that says a lot. I know you are a science nerd but you give that honor such disgrace it makes me want to punch you in the face. I emotionally and mentally stopped investing you already. You are so clingy it's exhausting.

I wouldn't change my past because it made me who I am.
I wouldn't change my past because I have grown wise and experienced from it.
I wouldn't change my past because as messy and complex as my life is I have lots of good memories as well as bad memories.
I wouldn't change my past because I don't want to be something I am not.

You may never know how much the past ***** you into a void.
One that you can't out run nor drink away.
Who is to say how much you have to survive in order to live?
Who is to say how courageous you have to be in order get through the night? Do God actually count my tears? Does He see my pain and sorrows? His messengers were there for me. His scripture only feed the suspiciousness of the rich and demote the curious.
I have always been curious. In Christianity to ask deep questions is to be chastised by the public or praised by peers. I have never been afraid to be vulnerable. I have been afraid to talk about my mental illnesses and my past. Could I be loved if I reveal those things? I already know that I am insane. I embrace it. It is better to be feared by the public for being crazy than loved for hiding personal issues.

I have heard stories of who slept with who from being a band nerd.
I know who had conflicts with who because of my sensitive ears.
People in school fought for seats in honor band. Flutes and clarinets mostly. Most of them were spoiled rich kids who wanted a specific seat so they can look good on college transcripts. I don't blame them. Student Government is worth the determination, just lead.
                                        College is fun and a lot
                                           Of hard work. School
                                           may be for opportunistic
                                           smart ***** but as I learned
                                           high school to college.
                                           Intelligence may be one thing but cunning abilities come with a price. I was never popular so I don't know the cost. Knowing people from being an empath have perks unlike knowing people from following trends. I never followed the crowds, it seemed pointless and I was right. I was invited to the popular table several times but I never felt safe and loved by them. I guess they wanted my presence to represent my tribe but I will never betray them to the sharks. What is discussed at the nerd table stays there. I won't reveal other people's secrets because it's not my place. Integrity get you places. Creating an honor code between best friends even if it's unspoken is worth it. Volunteering work actually looks good on a resume. If you are a good person having morals will be worth being made fun of in school. Wearing glasses is worth being able to read things. Being a nerd is like being a limited edition book, everyone wants it but it's expensive to get.
We nerds enjoy quality time together and will make each other laugh genuinely until our stomachs hurt. Like any other human we just want to people make us feel less lonely.

Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have ****** desires and aren't void of ****** love. Eros can rule even the most innocent of souls.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have romance and marriage that spans ages. Aphrodite can influence the most restraint of minds.
Being Pure of heart doesn't you can't appreciate beauty. Zeus can lie in the most bizarre of ways.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean any human experiences or desires are less than it just mean whatever perspective or mindset they have are simply there in a way that is complex.

Mom thinks I am lazy and unobservant though if she ever listened to the parents around her, she would know that I have a strong work ethic and is very observant. Mom used to call me a worthless kid when she thought I was asleep. I stayed up those nights thinking of ways to make my mom proud turns out nothing creative I did made her proud. Only when I got awards from cross country about me being the heart and soul of the team or a certificate for having a good GPA in high school my senior year and perfect attendance. Otherwise I never felt loved and validated by my mother. I lived in the shadows of my older siblings. Perfect at sports, perfect at school, and always hanging around a crowd somewhere. No matter how many times people would tell me how great of a friend I am or how smart I am it's hard for me to believe them. I had my small group of best friends that trusted with my life and I still do. I don't care about what people say of me. You can't criticize my life when you have never lived it.
What Everyone Says about me depends on who you were. I got used to living in the shadows of my older siblings and forged my own path. Watch me become someone great, I dare you.

He is a good friend of mine. He has been my friend since I used to work at Casey's with him.
He is reasonably smart, sweet, mindful, thoughtful and spontaneous.
He has night black hair, deep, dark brown eyes and light tan skin.
He is a year younger than me and somewhat handsome.
I am hanging out with him tomorrow as friends.

Now I wait for Christmas and the one.
I wonder if I am going to be single forever.
I wonder when I will love the one.
I wonder who the one is.

I know not to beg for human decency nor a love that isn't selfish.
Scientist Boy No. 2 may be my friend but he is the reason that I don't trust guys anymore. I should have forgotten him the moment he asked me to be his best friend. I didn't have to make that promise in high school. He always asked too much of me and I asked too little of him. It was a selfish promise on his part and a selfless commitment on my part. Yin and Yang isn't how I would describe the friendship. It's more me trying to tolerate his narcissistic personality disorder and less him allowing me to be myself. I keep friend-zoning him and he keeps begging for my hand in marriage. It's a toxic friendship I know that. I always outsmart him on wits yet he keeps placing guilt traps.
It's a never ending war. He never gives me a break. I shouldn't have to babysit a grown man.

The Sweet Girl and the dimple on her right cheek when she smiles.
The Sweet Girl said she will message me on Messenger when she wants to hangout with me.
I love The Sweet Girl's voice for it makes my days at work better.
The Sweet Girl has this way of getting cuter with each passing day.
Today she had her chestnut brown hair in a ponytail and wore a yellow flannel. It emphasized her prominent cheekbones. I couldn't help it but stare at how beautiful she is.

The Girl with Green Eyes never once stopped the rumors and gossip about me.
The Girl with Green Eyes never once defended my honor when I wasn't around.
The Girl with Green Eyes isn't a best friend at all and she isn't even an ally to me in my personal wars anymore because I don't trust her.
The Girl with Green Eyes was a fluke on my judgement and I don't know how I could that she was always ordinary.
The Girl with Green Eyes deserves her loneliness and her crowds because she never deserved my love nor friendship.
The Girl with Green Eyes isn't human because demons like her deserve to burn in hell.
She will forever be haunted by my poetry because I don't care anymore about what she thinks of me.
This vengeful angel have stories of truths to tell and that demon or siren whatever she is won't ever hold me back.

When I Say that I have a misfit army that lead then I mean I can assemble them with a beacon of distress and they will be there no matter how long it takes them to be there. My warriors are not to be messed with they are witty, fun-loving and vengeful. Being well read and bullied to the point of wanting to prove everyone wrong does that to a person.
When I Say that I have a wild side I mean I have two different wild sides, one calm, cool and collected to predict everyone's actions and the other fierce, unbreakable and fearless to bring anyone to their weakness.
When I Say that I know how to love it's because my experiences that I can make anyone a mellow, warm hearted person with just a gaze and a conversation.
When I Say that I have met angels, demons and monsters I mean people are all those things it just depends what it behind their mask.
When I Say that I fought wars with myself I mean I have through hell and back so many times that I have lost count.

My mind blocks out the traumatizing memories of spending with him. My heart reminds me how there was no good times with him.
His love wasn't consistent. And every time he said he cared about me I knew it wasn't true.
What is left of me is my gentle touch and kind smile.
To him there was no good in the world. To him I was a deity no matter how many times I revealed my flaws. To him my mistakes were for mocking and who I fell for were illusions because they weren't him.
What is left of me is my dark humor and stubbornness.

When I say Goodnight to him I want to say goodbye and leave me alone.
When I say Goodnight he wants me to stay up late until I can't function.
When I say Goodnight he don't understand that I don't want to see him until I am 100% mentally me again because he is so draining.
When I say Goodnight he sometimes makes me so angry that it scares him and I smile to myself having some form of resistance to his narcissistic charms.
When I say Goodnight he sometimes depresses me with his past sob stories knowing he wouldn't lie to me unless he have something to hide.
When I say Goodnight he overshares how hot other girls are compared to me because he thinks I will be insecure about him admiring other girls when I shrug off his insults like a heavy backpack.
When I say Goodnight I know his gaslighting and lies don't affect me because I am mentally stronger than his ego.

To touch her, to feel the soft skin.
To feel her warm lips against mine again.
As I see that smile of hers and I feel my heart swell.
As I gaze into her dark blue eyes, everything seems divine.

See I got your attention. It's human nature to want peel away the fake and reveal the ugly. If "beauty is skin deep" for most people then what is the ugliness in the beautiful? Obviously from most science documentaries there is ***, drugs, peer pressure and low self esteem. In a way popularity is full of scandals. I never understood popularity from a nerd perspective. Normal is overrated and highly praised.
Normal is drunk nights, too many parties, getting high and who slept with who. It's dramatic and boring. Normal is seeking attention and validation from people you barely know. Normal is begging for information from people you want approval from. In a way it's a system that is emotionally, physically, mentally and psychologically abusive. There are people who suffer from *** addiction because of their "glory days" and don't know how to connect with people because that so-called popular life was their drug. Don't anyone get tired of following trends and huge crowds? Do those people ever form their own opinion or are they trapped in that system? There is more to life than popularity, *** and drugs. Don't you know narcissism blooms from that lifestyle? I don't claim superiority in my nerdy intelligence. I just feel sorry for popular girls who cut themselves because of awful rumors. No one should ever feel worthless if their beauty is deeper than just their skin. I always prayed for the popular girl who I wrote letters to. I saw how that life ate her up but she didn't back down. I admire people who gaze into darkness and choose light no matter how small of achievement by human standards it is.

Thinking in Stanzas, the mere thought or to continue in thought is how the poem is.
Thoughts of poems and creations of poems. For we are not greater than the Great Poets and Poetesses before us.
For we are modern poets of this technology and of this age.
Thinking in Stanzas, to think a dear thought is to develop a poem. For thoughts are how poems are made. Let the thoughts be great of love, death or desire. For great love is how poems of love are made from.
For great death is how sorrow is not void within each poem about death.

Yeah it's going to be one of those poems. I already discussed scandals so why not politics? I know you think it's going to be all popularity propaganda. Some parts yes. Other parts are going to be scientific facts. Real stories have facts. So why not this? Sure it's a poem. Watch me turn this into art. Politics are starched expensive collars, noses in the air and pride in the chest. What makes them better than everyone else? They will tell you. It's not the confidence or the over-product smell good hair on their. Nor is it the fancy dresses and over-priced tuxes. It's the ever growing tide of pride, narcissism and over-indulgent life they carry with them. It's the galas, ribbon-cuttings and over-the-top parties that draw them in. High class is what most people call it. Sure it's what most people call "paradise" but never called "home". Being rich doesn't make you soulfully rich. Some of the most arrogant, rich people I know will tear apart someone's reputation with one rumor. Yes they were popular people but it's how animal-like they were that terrified me. How can you call someone friend and destroy them in the worst, most inhuman way possible? What business are they actually running?

Lost people are simply people who want a tribe.
Broken hearted people want people who can fill that void.
Broken minded people want people who can understand them.
It is easy to know because I used to be a lost and lonely person a long time ago. I was a troubled, strange adorable kid who made friends fast and they were usually as weird as I was.
Finding broken people are easy to search for when you are one.
I won't tell their true stories I have a moral code when it comes to friends of old. My past is mine and no one can take that away from me. I can only tell my own stories from my perspective.

When people compliment me, I think, "What the hell do I do with this? Do I hug them? Do I smile? What if they are a stranger I don't touch strangers."
When people flirt with me, I think, "Make a joke they might laugh. Okay that was stupid. Do something else."
When people talk to me, I think, "Okay socialization! Where did those words come from? What was that? Who is this again? Name...name, come on I need a name! If I say you then it will be too generalized. If I make a snarky comment will they hate me?"
When I sing, I think, "What will people think of me? How do I sound? Wow, that was good. Can I do it again?"

I am hoping she still wants to be more than friends with me.
For when her navy blue eyes look into my coffee brown eyes, my heart races and I forget my worries.
Oh how she smiles in my direction I just want to kiss her again and again.

I can control how I react things. I can control my mental state in most cases. I don't fight when it comes to releasing my emotions.
Most of the time when I can't control I use calming methods like deep breathing techniques I learned from concert band.
I can control my thoughts and what to think about. It's like opening up being vulnerable is easy to me but trusting that an entirely different story. To trust someone I need to have known them for a long time. I can't just meet someone and automatically trust them, I used to do that but I ended up hurt far too many times by doing that.

William Shakespeare once said, "All of life is a stage and we are all performers." He isn't wrong. Some people act until no one is around. Some people are genuinely who they are. Others fall somewhere in between. I stopped acting straight when I felt accepted by my closest friends. That was 3 years ago. Some say, "Life is a dance."
Therapists sometimes say, "One Step Forwards, Two Steps Back." Is life a stage, a dance floor or a mountain? Because sometimes I can't tell the difference. I can dance well for a person. I can write well. I can give a speech without crying nor freezing up. I can make pizzas, breadsticks and sandwiches effortlessly. I can run like the wind. I can do whatever I set my mind to. Some people would call me a gifted person but I just call myself mentally ill because it's true no matter how you put it. Legends aren't made from privilege, they are forged from dark nights of the soul and countless socially awkward environments. How else are influential people supposed to be made? Because crowds get you nowhere.

People rushing by without a second thought.
People rushing by, couples walking, children looking at the different colors and I walked by myself.
People rushing by, getting Christmas gifts and people going to church while I walk home with fancy coffee in hand because I already did my Christmas shopping.
People rushing by forgetting to enjoy the adventures of Christmas when in the end we will die one day.

I used to carry such hatred for people way back when because I hated repressing my love for women.
I didn't realize the hate was eating me alive so when I met a queer person at youth group that hatred faded and I filled up with compassion.
I still didn't what queer was at the time but I had unconditional love for this queer person then I realized I am queer too when I was in high school, my senior year.
Then in college, one of my best friends told me what bisexuality is and I realized I am bisexual. Eventually I got over my internalized biphobia and the rest is history.