Queer. Lesbian. Gay. Fag. Faggot. Homo. Pansy. Lesbo.
Yes.
I am.
I am queer. I am weird, surprising, unexpected. I am unusual, strange, odd. I don’t fit the norm. I am who I am. If you have a problem with me, than deal with it. I am queer. I am me.
I am lesbian. I like girls. I like the connection that I feel with those whose similarities go beyond a single chromosome. I like the gentleness of their touch, the sweetness of their scent, the softness of their lips. I like their laugh and their smile and their hair and the way their eyes gleam with light when the talk about their favorite band or movie or book. I am lesbian. I am me.
I am gay. I am happy, content, pleased. I am satisfied with who I am. I am not perfect, but I know this, I know my faults. I know what I must fix. And I am happy. I am gay. I am me.
I am a fag. I am a cigarette. I am poisonous to any and all who abuse me. My soul glows as bright as the flame at the end of your roll of toxin. My words and very being is addictive and seductive, luring you into the company of one who will never judge, who will never laugh at your tiny little insecurities. I am a fag. I am me.
I am a faggot. I may not be a male, but I am strong as one. I am as tough as one. I can fight like one, I can survive like one, I can do anything they can do. I am a homosexual, a homophile, a lover. I am a faggot. I am me.
I am a homo. I am the same. I am a rock. I do not change, I do not like change. Second chances are given sparingly. I will always be there for those who need a place to rest. I will always stand through the thundering waves crashing down around me, I will always be here. I am a homo. I am me.
I am a pansy. I am afraid to tell others of what I am. But behind the shadow of the closet, a beautiful flower blooms, just bidding its time till its silky smooth petals burst out from behind the thin doors, spilling out to soak up the glow of the day. I am a pansy. I am me.
I am a lesbo. But I am a human. These words do hurt. They distance me from those who could be my friends. They stop me from mentioning my love, my love that is like yours, and yours, and like everyone else’s in this world. They stick a shard of dark behind the light of my smile. They suffocate my flame, slowly killing it. They make me feel insecure, as even men feel sometimes. They chip away at the brick of my never changing wall. They stain my blooms and buds. I am a lesbo. I am a human. I am me.
I am a queer. A lesbian. A gay. A fag. A faggot. A homo. A pansy. A lesbo.
I am weird. I am love. I am happy. I am bright. I am strong. I am constant. I am beautiful. I am human.
But most importantly,
I am me.