Salut, everyone! Welcome to my bio!

Name: Kyree (That's pronounced, K-ear-ie) It's a Mr. Mister song.

Age: Somewhere in the teens

Location: The US of A, in a very suckish city, in the state of Indiana.

I like writing, although I don't really think I'm any good and my friend Chrissie always has to bug me and tell me how awesome I am. As a matter of fact, she's even writing my bio for me because I have such low self-esteem! (Me: Hi, I'm Chris. I'm am writing Kyree's bio. Notes from me are italicised.)

If you would please read some of my (Kyree's) stories, and give me (Kyree) some imput! (Please. She's going to kill me with her wallowing in self pity...)

Your Budding Author,

Kyree.

Kyree: Don't ya think that was a bit harsh? I'm working on the self-esteem thingy, okay?! Hey, I'm the author, Kyree, Chrissie is my editor! I love her so much for helping me through all the tough times I've been through, and the self-esteem problem... Chrissie is really cool and awesome (though she is mildly obsessed with Buddy Holly, or whatever his name is...) and she's one of my closest friends! So don't mess with, okay?! Please?! Pretty Please?! Pretty Please With A Cherry On Top?! Well, have to go write more of the story, or Chrissie will kill me... '-.- ...bye-byes!!

Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong. Please do your part to end it.
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.

These kind of things really do happen to people everyday day just because of their own preferences. My great-grandmother even acts as if her daughter, my beloved great-aunt Ginny, is not lesbian; so her and her partner, my beloved great-aunt Linda, cannot be who they really are around her.

So yeah. Obviously Kyree feels strongly about this. And I am not obsessed with Buddy Holly! Gerry Marsden...

Wow, Chrissie. Jus-Just wow... and sure your not obsessed with him...