lgbtq
The letters LGBTQ are just another way of saying that Love is Love.
Old Contacts
He had been staring at his little black address book for over twenty minutes. Flipping through each worn out page over and over again; mulling over his decision. He hadn’t spoken to most of these people in over a year and since then, so much has changed about him. For starters, when they all had known him, he was a she and her name was Mena, short for Philomena.
Evyn LotitoPublished 3 years ago in HumansUnder fluorescent lights
“Love is sacrifice… you have to put yourself aside” my uncle said as he repositioned himself on his decades old caramel-colored leather chair. The phrase is the only thing that resonated with me for some reason so I wrote it down. I suddenly realized this is the only composition of words in this notebook. They danced and seemed electric in my uncles pastoral office. One bulb was on its last leg and the flickering made the faux wood paneling- which was decades older than the chair- come to life with faceless orbs and oscillating tree rings. “Do you hear me boy?” I suddenly looked up with the intent of presence. “Yes Sir” I said. “Daydreaming is not going to make this process any faster and certainly not going to set you on the path to salvation boy.” I hated when he called me boy. So condescending for a 17 year old and most likely a power move on his part. Suddenly a section of the paneling cracked open and I thought I was hallucinating from the last 20 minutes of this spastic fluorescent bulb. “Sister Barbara really wants you to meet her grandson.” my aunt said poking her head in with a soft and cautious voice. “Oh alright, I guess we're done here and I'm starving!” grunted my uncle as he fixed his tie and gave me a look that made me feel like an adolescent.
Osbaldo deleonPublished 3 years ago in HumansOLIVIA
My name is Olivia, and this is my story. I never met my mother, she left as soon as she gave birth to me, and I was raised by my father who never missed a day, reminding me how hard it was for him to be a single parent, and how grateful I should be he didn't give me away. My only consolation was writing, and Grace. Grace came to my school in the fifth grade and since then we were inseparable. She was an only child as well and her family environment wasn't easy either; we both knew we had our problems, but with one another it felt like we could overcome everything.
The One Who Waits
My life is in one room: four boxes on the kitchen floor, an overstuffed duffle bag on the counter, my keys on the table. Looking at my belongings, all I feel is shame: the brooding child of love and hate which has eaten away at me every day since June left. I laugh to myself, a dark, sharp chuckle that bounces off the emptiness around me. We are born alone and we die alone. But isn’t life about connection? Isn’t love what makes life worth living? Bags and boxes stuffed with my things, but now that she’s gone, I have nothing.
Morgan HoodPublished 3 years ago in HumansHow to Be a Man
When she was 12 and staying with us for several weeks that summer, she asked me if she could get a haircut. She wanted a big change - "Cut it all off!" she said. I asked her to pick some photos, "so we can show the stylist what you're looking for". The pictures were not just of short hair styles - but radical - more like boy cuts than short women cuts. I was a little shocked - and asked her to double check the cut with her mom and to maybe back off on the extremity a bit. I was not paying attention. I was a step-mom with very little time in the job - and was so worried about not screwing up - that I wasn't paying attention.
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Page 1: It’s been three months since he disappeared without an explanation. I’m a 27-years-old man, but I still have the emotional stability of a 12-year-old girl who’s trying to get over a boy. It’s completely unjustified. I don't even know his full name. But I know he has thigh tattoos and he makes me feel safe. I’ve spent three months wanting to feel safe again, which is stupid because I’ve spent seven years getting used to having PTSD. The gas station TV told me to make a vision board. I went to an office store to print photos. While I was there, I found this little black notebook. I hope starting this journal will help me feel okay again. I’ll write again tomorrow.
Luke HaddadPublished 3 years ago in HumansYours,
I had five minutes to prepare myself. I slipped the phone into my pocket, and went into the bathroom one more time. I’d cut myself shaving, and I knew he’d be annoyed. It reminded him of my age, my inexperience.
Ollie CartwrightPublished 3 years ago in HumansSolving the Mystery of "You"
So in February of 2020, I opened a Tiktok account, for the simple purpose of wanting to check out the hype and being around when it's predecessor Musical.ly was the rage. In May, I made one silly little video, and eventually I made more. After a while I got into Cosplay, and made lots of friends. I also met a lot of wonderful people who had different pronouns, including the neo-pronouns such as Fae/Faer.
Lizzy RosePublished 3 years ago in HumansFollow the Rules
Tessa sat down towards the back of the bus. She’d had a long day at work, full of meetings and the never-ending feeling that her to-do list was getting longer not shorter. Meetings were so frustrating – she couldn’t get any work done during them, and she always left them with more work. She pulled out her phone, more to look busy and avoid being engaged by strangers in conversation than any real need.
Chris CunliffePublished 3 years ago in HumansThe premiere
Come on, answer, I cannot wait anymore. I know it’s early but I had to share the news with Adam. Adam is my best friend. We met on our first year in college and have been best friends ever since. Even though I am gay and he is... something, we have never hooked up or even gotten close to hooking up. Yes, I had feelings for him at some point, if you must know, but that was only for a second, in between pining for my now ex and I have not given it thought since. Well, except maybe now since I brought it up. But I digress, this is not the story of Adam and me, who by the way is almost 3000 miles away while I am house sitting for my uncle in Greece, this is all about...
Vasileios PapadimasPublished 3 years ago in HumansAll I Want
Carla remembers the day her life turned upside down, a day etched in her memory bank, a day that occasionally flashed behind her eyelids when closing her eyes at night in discomfort, cradled against the pavement and stone wall of a dilapidated building that stood longer than she’d been alive. Clutching a sheer sheet to gather warmth from the elements, the sky darkened as night fell, pinpricks of light decorating and designing patterns across the sky. The city began to bustle with life, conversations with intermittent laughter of men and women blending together, creating a vibrant hum that funnily enough eased Carla’s anxiety. It was when the silence came that her anxiety would skyrocket. Silence meant she was alone. Alone in a world that had thrown her out. Thrown her out to be forgotten. To become nothing. To be swallowed by the darkness and disappear.
Over the Moon
Alex dropped down onto all fours and circled the group of frat boys standing outside the bar barking at the top of her lungs. She lifted her right leg and symbolically urinated on the chatty one’s ankle. All hyped up she finished off with a quick hop to her feet ripping down her black leggings to bare her derriere. She then readjusted her pants and her girlfriend Siobhan grabbed her hand to steady her balance. A small group of curious onlookers recording the incident with their cell phones cheering as the pair scurried away from the scene. The loving couple were tired of the continuous harassment by this group of immature college boys and the disparaging comment “You are too beautiful to be lesbians” were words Alex could no longer ignore.
Marilyn GloverPublished 3 years ago in Humans