I write, I erase, I think. I try not
to say. There’s a lot to remains behind my skin. I don’t want people to confuse
me as someone I’m not. I try my best to not hurt anyone. Everyday I walk on
eggshells. Sometimes I wish I could describe to people how I see the world. How
my chaotic mind works. But I stay silent. I stay silent because I want people
to see me deeply. Words are just words. They’ll read it, think for a moment,
and get on with life. I want them to delve deeply so they may better understand
what’s caged behind the smooth skin I carry.
I write a lot. Only few people
understand the hidden meaning behind what I write. Sometimes when I talk, I
talk metaphorically. It’s like a cipher, a hidden puzzle, a labyrinth that
people have to solve to get to know what I really meant. I’m sick of explaining
myself again and again. If someone is really interested in what I bring to the
table, they need to open up their minds to delve into a deeper dimension.
If you hear me talking, listen to
what I’m not saying. If you hear me playing guitar, listen to what I’m not
playing. I don’t ask you to put words to all the silences I wrote. Don’t ask me
to put words to all the spaces between notes. In fact, if you have to ask,
forget it.
The right person will come along one
day, and quiet the chaos you’ve built in your mind, and tell you that they love
you and truly mean it. You’re not a lost cost. Someone out there is looking for
your brand of queer and oh how beautifully you’re going to be cherished one
day. Don’t save your strange for predators. Protect it all costs for the one
who will move the earth on its axis to be with you.
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