Dear Homophobic People

Dear Homophobic Person,

First, how are you doing? I recognise that it’s a tough life for you today in 2019. An Asian country just legalised same-sex marriage which I’m sure just really drove the idea home that this is a downhill battle. Not that that stops you; I’d find that kind of integrity impressive if your ideals hadn’t been born from hate. But we all make bad choices.

Second, we need to talk.

Now if you’re sitting there getting preemptively offended because you’re not sure if I’m addressing you, then yes, I’m addressing you. Actually. No. Not this time. I’m not talking to you because let’s be real, you’ve chosen your side. If you wanna hate me, I’m not going to change your mind. And I’m not going to waste my time trying. Well, I don’t think I’ll change the mind of the people I’m addressing either, so I guess what I’m saying is I’m done with you. Goodbye.

This is isn’t even for the people who are are homophobic but think I’m a lovely and engaging girl so they pretend I’m straight when they’re talking to me so that they don’t have to question their beliefs that all queer people are bad people. Or the people that ask me “Are you sure you’re not straight?” (this one also applies to the biphobic gay people who ask me if I’m sure I’m not gay) for the hundredth time. Yes, I’m sure. If you’re not convinced I can tell you about the dream I had the other night of me and a girl, but it might make you blush.

No, I’m talking to the people who are reading this and feel offended, but are pretending they’re not. Because in their minds I can’t be talking about them. Sure, they don’t agree with it, but they recognise that bisexuality is a thing that I am for some reason, they believe that it wasn’t a choice, they think I should just choose to only be with men but they recognise that they can’t impose that and that I totally 100% deserve rights – except the rights to marry certain people or parent children but they’ll be personally happy that I’m happy if I choose to do those things and they’ll just pray for my soul, society and/or the hypothetical child.

I’m talking to the people who think they’re not homophobic because homophobic is rightfully becoming a bad thing to be in our society. I have just two things to say to you:

1.) You’re wrong. You are totally homophobic. But thank you for not thinking I deserve to be stoned? I guess?

2.) Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

I don’t care what you have to say. I honestly don’t. It’s not against nature. And you know it. There’s nothing psychologically wrong with me. You’re not a psychiatrist so you don’t get to tell me my brain is wrong. But maybe you should consider seeing one. Finally, STOP PRETENDING YOU CARE ABOUT BIOLOGY. Because first of all, you took one class in high school, you need more prerequisites that that for me to patiently listen to your brand of dumbassery. Second, since you pretend to be so interested in Darwinism let me explain a few things to you. Sexual attraction and sexual conduct are not mutually exclusive, you can have sex with someone you’re not attracted to, you can even have fun sex while having sex with someone you’re not attracted to, and since people have been because you’ve been locking them in the closet under threat of death we’ve had ample opportunity to pass our genes on. Plus, studies have shown that maternal female relatives of gay men tend to have more children than maternal female relatives of straight people. So if we’re talking about about evolution and survival of the fittest, we’ve got you beat. If you were right, we’d have died millennia ago.

But of-course, you’re not going to listen to that. Because I’ve tried to tell you before and you haven’t listened. You don’t care about anything that proves you wrong.

I just don’t understand what you’re expecting my reaction to be when you say homophobic things to me. Are you expecting me to agree with you? You’re not actually that stupid, are you? I know that you know I’m the most tolerant of shitty ideas compared to most people you know. However, you act like my tolerance is your license to say whatever you want. So if I don’t get mad, then it’s okay to think the way you think. If I do get mad, then I’m overreacting due to personal bias, and it’s still okay to think the way you think. But here’s the thing, I always get mad when you say that shit. I just don’t have the emotional energy to pretend like you give a fuck to what I have to say. Because yeah, I’m biased and I recognise that. But so are you and I’m sick and tired of you pretending like you have an objective point of view. All you have is the narcissistic belief that your ideas are fact even when you’re presented by facts that prove you wrong.

Nature is on my side. Psychiatry is on my side. Science is on my side. The law is on my side. Society is slowly joining my side. The only one on your side is the mirror.

Of-course, there is one area which we don’t know whose side it’s on. But here’s the thing, the theological quandaries about my sexuality have nothing to do with you. You don’t get to judge, read the Bible another time, it backs me up on that. The theological questions regarding my sexuality, and whether I choose or not to conduct myself in accordance with it, are between me and God. You don’t form a part of that equation. And if you ignore the countless number of verses telling you that you don’t have the right to judge, then you quoting six verses from the Bible to me is nothing short of hypocrisy. And the Bible has things to say about hypocrisy as well.

Of-course, that’s not for me to judge, and I’m not saying it is. That’s between you and your God. I’m just telling you that your theological based opinions on me and my life have no merit. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you don’t decide. And maybe you haven’t added two and two, but it’s your God that made me bisexual. If He makes no mistakes, if He made me in His image, then by insulting me, one of God’s children, then you are insulting Him and His judgment. By thinking I’m an abomination, you’re placing your opinions over His will.

So I don’t know if theology is on my side. Maybe it’s not. But I do know it’s not on your side.

Yet, despite all of this, I am willing to pretend you’re not homophobic. I am willing to continue to be friends. But you have to stop with your thinly veiled remarks about the LGBT+ community. You especially have to stop judging. And you are ne-ver allowed to tell me that there is something psychologically wrong with me being attracted to women again. Just abide by the golden rule. If you have nothing nice to say about us, then don’t say anything at all.

But if you choose to say something offensive to me ever again, whilst expecting me not to get offended, then you don’t get to be offended when I tell you to shut the fuck up.

Sincerely tired of your bullshit,
Richela

P.S. Don’t even bother messaging me to tell me you’re offended. I don’t care. Because you certainly don’t.
P.S.S. I will accept (even if I don’t expect) an apology. Do with that as you will.

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Whispers

Whispers,
Inside my head,
I’m so fucking wrong,
I have to be wrong.

Whispers,
In between our lips,
Our one fatal sin,
Our sweet blissful sin.

Whispers,
Inside my heart,
I’ll never be loved,
How could I ever be loved?

Whispers,
Down on my knees,
God, please change who I am,
Don’t let this be who I am.

And if there’s love I’m meant to feel,
It’s been hidden beneath the shadows of hate,
A coldness wrought from your frozen hell,
Because my heart wasn’t meant for hatred,
That’s the whole fucking point.

God chose me to love. Satan chose you to hate.
Whose assignment is holiest? Whose fruit tastest the sweetest?

Whispers,
You think I can’t hear them;
Whispers,
I know you can’t fucking stand me;
Whispers,
It’s all you ever see when you look at me.

Whispers,
You think we can’t hear them,
But they’re as loud as gunshots,
In a crowded club.

Whispers.

Our Victory Song

Happy Pride!

Chelarose

beautiful-hands-heart-5390

I want to write sweet words to you. Serenade your soul so that it’ll dance with mine. Hold my waist and twirl me around a ballroom like I used to imagine when I was seven and my mother sighed and told me I couldn’t wear a dress to school. That seven year old girl didn’t know the difference between loving a man or a woman. She liked both the smell of cologne and the thought of tucking the stem of a rose behind a woman’s ear. Short hair, long hair; cuff-links, lace trim; oxfords, heels; I know the difference, but not why it matters? So much of my identity depends on me acting like everything I wanted isn’t still what I dream about when I allow myself to be the whimsical, idealistic girl whose heart beats for life and not just survival. But I don’t want to be angry and…

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Milkshake

The literati mafia

In the stillness of the night
It’s the steady thump of your heart
Keeping me tethered
To this smoke hazy room,
A lacklustre altar of unholy vows.

And yet they’re sacred to me,
Because our union means it matters
In whatever microscopic way,
And the void in my heart doesn’t feel so dark.

Yet I wonder, as I collect pebbles
From paths we walked,
Whilst drinking from flasks
And chain smoking cigarettes,
If our vows were a form of sacrilege.

We never meant to be together forever,
And I pour the pebbles in an urn,
To memorialise the death of us,
Waiting and waiting for tears to come,
Wondering why it still doesn’t hurt.

Then I see them through a frosted window,
Sharing one milkshake through two straws,
A saccharine representation of what
We swore to each we’d never become,
And feel pain build in my chest
Leaving no room…

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Silence

In a land far away
Where madness is law of the land,
They kill men, women and children,
For reasons so incoherent and illogical
That their people have ceased to ask why,
They think they know the reason:

Because they can,
The power to hold life in their hands
And to take it away with a curl of their fingers,
Is what it feels like to be a king, a god,
And power intoxicates humans.

That is a delusion, this is the truth:

They allow them to,
Power cannot be held
It can only be given,
And they give so freely
That they have forgotten that it is an option,
The only people that scream for liberation,
Are those seconds away from death,
And dead men fight no battles, they win no wars,
The only effect they cause is fear to the living.

But it is a land far away,
We trust that they are not setting the precedent,
That we will never become them,
And they will never become us,
That the status quo that ensures our survival will never be broken,
And history has proven us wrong time and time again,
But we are so mighty that we transcend history.

Or we think we do,
It is man’s arrogance that blinds them to their weakness,
And consequently what leads them to the bottom
When everyone chooses their allegiances
To people who will never deserve it,
To people who will eventually kill them,
Just to prove that they are as high as God,
And in a land far away they rebel
They gain their independence
And they do not lend aid to us.

Why would they?
We set the precedent,
And apologies do not raise the dead.

Vodka Soda

I keep sinking and sinking and sinking,
I grow roots in the soil and try to drain it,
Get the nitrogen to work as a growth hormone,
And drink like it’s water, like it’ll refresh me,
The sad fact is it does, and it terrifies me,
But when my thoughts get quiet I feel normal,
Like maybe I won’t die under all the pressure,
Then the sun comes back and so does everything else.

It’s not fucking fair, this tortured artist bullshit,
I get all of the vices but none of the talent,
The more eyes I get the lonelier I feel,
Because I scream and pour it out on a page,
Yet nobody comes running, nobody fucking cares,
They just keep scrolling, forget all about it,
Or they stick around and applaud me for it,
Because my pain is so gut wrenching,
My words reach through and twist the knife,
And they feel better because we bleed the same way,
When did we forget it’s not supposed to be like this?

Fade all the lights out, until I can’t see,
Drown all my restraint in vodka,
Blow smoke into my lungs,
Fuck my brain inside and out
Burn away everything that’s left,
Until it’s all gone, until it’s all quiet,
Until all that’s left is my skeleton,
Temporarily sterilized of the poison,
And hope the cancer isn’t in my marrow.

For those few seconds I feel myself blossom,
And I don’t care about all the eyes on me,
They can’t touch me;
Air can’t fucking touch me,
Because I don’t know if I exist
When I’m not sinking under the weight.

Used to think determination defined me,
But maybe the right word is desperation,
My anxiety dug the grave but I won’t get in,
My heart is beating too hard for me to give up,
And most of the time I open my eyes relieved,
Another day, another chance this isn’t all I’ll ever be,
But sometimes I need to let go of myself,
Because I can’t stand being this sick.

CPR

You pressed your lips to mine
And breathed life back into me
After my lungs had given up
The impossible task of keeping me alive
When I found no incentive
To do so on my own.

But life moves on, the Earth keeps spinning
The hands on the clock keep ticking,
And I find that gratitude has no gravitational pull.

It wasn’t enough for Eve, who took a whole rib,
To not be seduced by the serpent’s promises,
Because at the end of the day, she was a woman,
And the greatest defect of women is that we have our own minds,
We make our own choices.

She, like I, did not ask for a life
Where we are only meant to fulfill a desire
You think you deserve,
Furthermore, my life is not important to you
Except in how it affects your physical state,
And I am not beholden to a promise I did not make.

However, if the oxygen you gave me
Was really an act of selfless love
Instead of a masturbatory investment,
Then you’ll be happy to know
I’ve taken full advantage to seek out
All the joy I could not find in our past.