you know what they do to guys like us in prison

[impy]

And now it's time for the further adventures of Impaliscious! Starring... me.

Last night, I got hit on by a teenager. Dude, I didn't get hit on by teenage boys when I was a teenager. o_O It was amusing, very. I got to giggle no less. Due to the oddity of it all. I felt all kinds of special.

Realized yesterday that my hair is the darker version of what I used to inadvertantly end up with. Like instead of strawberry blonde, it's somehow strawberry brown. :p It's very odd.

La. My feet hurt. Did I mention that? I think not. And if I did, well, I didn't mention it enough, obviously, because they still hurt. *whine*

If you're attempting to get ahold of me via email, I suggest snarkyimp@gmail.com
Unless I do not know you. Then it might just be weird, you know? I think you do.

And while I normally pass on things like this out of a desire not to pull the LJ version of a chain letter going 'round, lately I've had to wake up to the unsettling reality that just because I don't have a problem with something doesn't mean lots of other people around me don't. It's always a swift kick to the head when you realize that. Or, maybe more like a kick to the chest. Anyway. :

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 didn’t 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.

Repost this if you believe homophobia is wrong.