I work near WeHo and it annoys the FUCK out of me to be around this. Which is probably also why I don’t have any fucks to give.
Self-hating gay man? No. I don’t have to BROADCAST that I’m gay to be gay. I do gay my own damn way. Bitter and yelling at a fucking twat cunt bitch that almost caused a bloody car accident this morning.
The fuck am I mad at? Going home. PEACE.
Thirty two years ago, at 5 am on a chilly November Friday morning, I was spawned into this world. My mother’s only child, a small thing, swaddled in a County USC blanket, she refused to part with me and held me close. Father nowhere to be found for two days. I was his accident. Unwanted.
I tell people that I’m strong and I don’t care, but it still hurts. So my birthdays are bittersweet. I love my mother so much, but I hated my dad. I didn’t cry at his funeral when he left us with insurmountable debt and bankruptcy when I was 8. But this crotchety and stubborn old man didn’t want his ninth child. And she tells me that I’m just as smart and stubborn as he was. She doesn’t know I dislike him.
When I was in the first grade, before he died, I received a fortune cookie during school lunch one day that read, “Whomever you love the most will live the longest.” My father passed later that year.
I’m loved and wanted now, and that’s all that matters.
I have my story for NaNoWriMo.
Based on my reality.
Names changed to protect my paycheck.