Title : Good - part 2
Author : sKiTzO sHy VioLeT
Rating : R for language
Summary : How can a positive word ruin a daughter's life? Part 2
Note : My friend Heather said it was too short and after reading it I realized it was. I also realized I hadn't used the glass figurines like I originally intended to.

~*~

Suddenly those glass figurines seemed so far away.

I tried to get a grip on myself. My mind felt clouded with gauze, my eyes stung with tears. But I'm a life actress. I've been acting for years. Put me on a stage and I can't act, but put me in a real life situation and I'll act my ass off. I'll put a show on for you. I really will. When I was in elementary school my closest friends saw me cry once. *Once*, and that was only cause I was at my grandmother's funeral. I can put on a strong face that shows no emotion and be crying on the inside.

Sure, my eyes will sting and it'll get my brain feeling like it's on fire, but I have to. I don't know *why* I have to, but for some reason it's way fucking important.

I think my mom gave me a kiss on the forehead and I walked out of the room, but I don't really remember. When your mind is numb your memory doesn't function well. And when your memory doesn't function very well to begin with like mine, almost nothing sticks. I kind of shuffle walked into my room not really thinking and I closed my door. I remember that. I also remember that I stopped acting and cried. I often stop acting late at night long enough to cry about this messed up situation of a life that I'm in, but I never do it during the day. I'm usually a sun actor, but now it was like I'd lost my inspiration and therefore lost my character.

I thought of those figurines as I lay there crying. I thought of when I was little and playing with them. I thought of the glass shoe my sister and I used to play Cinderella with and wondered if somewhere there was a Cinderella story where Prince Charming was actually a Princess.

But I knew there wasn't. The human race doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that two people of the same sex can fall in love and that's all those fairy tales are about. Maybe I should write my own version of Cinderella where Prince Charming *is* a Princess and the King and Queen accept her as she is and encourage her to marry Cinderella. Cinderella will live with her stepmother who thinks nothing negative of her love for women. Or perhaps her stepmother will be a lesbian and live with Cinderella's mother (I'm changing a lot, Cinderella might as have her mother), because in their kingdom people aren't ignorant and they allow people of the same gender to get married.

I guess I'm getting away from things, aren't I? You can't hear it, but I just sighed. I just... Wish people would understand... We're no different from you, so why do you hate us? Well, perhaps you yourself don't hate us, but.... I don't know. And sometimes people don't notice. They'll claim themselves to be anti-homophobia then turn around and say they don't want to see two men holding hands. Or when they say "That's gay". It hurts. It really does.

My own sister does it. It's like a blow to the stomach everytime she does. My own sister. She claims she's not homophobic, but she is. Oh trust me she is.

What is this world coming to when a person has to live in a house hold full of people that hate her?

Slavery, genocide, concentration camps. All terrible. All horrible. All beyond imagination. People were hated by other people because of the way they were born.

But no matter how horrible, no matter how terrible, there was one single hope. One bright side.

Their families loved them.

They didn't look upon them because of the way they were born because they were born in the same way. But us, look at us! We're not... Our familes are different from us. If we're put in concentration camps or something, we'll have *nothing* solid to stand on. We'll be inside these inpenetrable walls gazing out with broken spirits and tears in our eyes while our families will be on the outside pumping money into them with their tax dollars or whatever. The solidiers running the hell hole will report that it's time to start pumping gas into the rooms where we shower and their commander will say one word.

"Good."