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On the screen is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I mean that in the gayest way possible. A red-lipsticked smirk that contains a hint of knowing, striking blue eyes with a gaze that is at once razor-sharp and mysteriously distant. Sometimes I see a girl so stunning that I have to come out to myself all over again in my head to digest the fraction of a possibility that I could get to be with that person. God, I love women…
I’m surprised because most people treat my dead father like The Game we all played in the early 2000s–acknowledgement is poisonous (also, you just lost The Game).
When my eyelids grow heavy, I let an honest thought slip through my mind-heart hotline: at least we get to fall asleep beside each other one more time.
