January 2011
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sometimes I forget that people are usually...
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the first twenty minutes of the train ride home were horrible. there was a man who was really drunk, finishing his bottle of whiskey. his daughter had died from a heroin overdose while he was in jail last year. he kept going on and on about how he always wants best for his children and how hard it is to protect them.
he then said he didn’t believe people can be born gay/bi. I usually accept...
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sometimes I think I would float away if this sadness didn’t weigh me down
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it’s one hour left of January 1st and 2011 is already trying to defeat me.
