Until a few weeks ago,

I

had never had one to call my own

and that one turned on me and

I

was left

alone

again.

That's what I have come to call familiar.
In this country

it is so hard

for one of one sex

to find one of the same sex, and make it work.

In public the stares make it hard to breathe,

knowing that at any second I could be beat down for what I believe.
So

who makes it this way?

We all do.

Every soul that lives and breathes is an accomplice in this twisted game.

Some are passive

and some are aggressive

but all play.
I cry at night sometimes

looking at the moon and the stars

wondering how their brilliance can continue to wash over us

when in reality

most of them are already dead.
But I suppose that's just like humanity.

From the second we're born, we begin to die.

But there's no need to fret,

death's a part of life.
But still I'm alone

and yet, in the end, we're all alone.

Even if you've loved someone your whole life

there is no guarantee that they will die at the exact same second in your arms,

which means,

inevitably,

we all die

alone.

I see this as justice.
People spend whole lives together,

devoted completely to one another's existence.

I don't know that feeling,

and I'm sure I never will.

But I'm content to be, to see,

that others are having the times of their lives.

It's okay.

I'll pretend to be affected by it.

That's all they want to see.
Still,

someday,

I wish it would be for me,

that glare in someone's eye,

that spark that will never fade,

and only grow stronger and brighter with time.

I wish upon that star,

but wishes never come true.

Only in dreams,

unfortunately,

I'm living in

reality.