Raz
Bluelighter
Hiding in our walled-off world, we're happy there. There's light and music, all kinds of drugs, and the party never needs to stop.
This is what it's all about.
It's not about the right of human beings to love one another, or equality or social justice or any of that. It's not about creating a place free of violence and discrimination, it's not about saving the Matthew Shepherds of the world at all.
It's none of that.
It's about hiding from the things that scare us. It's about building a defence system made of make-up and mirror balls, where we can avoid every confrontation with a few well-placed barbs from the tongue. It's about ecstacy and G, and the confidence and self-esteem that those things can give when fighting to be who we are has taken that away.
It's about a family of people we barely know, and a network of bed-hopping and cum-swapping that leaves us spiritually bereft and wondering what and who we want, when that sense of belonging was taken by blood that doesn't understand us.
It's about running the minute things got hard, and always looking for somewhere further to run to. It's digging a hole in the ground to escape the world that made us hurt. It's wrapping ourselves in glitter and sequins so that we don't have to risk giving them the chance to learn.
We accept ourselves and who we are as long as we're in a hole to protect us from every other person on the planet. We know who we are when we're all the same, and there's a kind of comfort in homogeny. Diversity is just a catchphrase, and individuality is a dirty word.
Welcome to our ghetto.
This is what it's all about.
It's not about the right of human beings to love one another, or equality or social justice or any of that. It's not about creating a place free of violence and discrimination, it's not about saving the Matthew Shepherds of the world at all.
It's none of that.
It's about hiding from the things that scare us. It's about building a defence system made of make-up and mirror balls, where we can avoid every confrontation with a few well-placed barbs from the tongue. It's about ecstacy and G, and the confidence and self-esteem that those things can give when fighting to be who we are has taken that away.
It's about a family of people we barely know, and a network of bed-hopping and cum-swapping that leaves us spiritually bereft and wondering what and who we want, when that sense of belonging was taken by blood that doesn't understand us.
It's about running the minute things got hard, and always looking for somewhere further to run to. It's digging a hole in the ground to escape the world that made us hurt. It's wrapping ourselves in glitter and sequins so that we don't have to risk giving them the chance to learn.
We accept ourselves and who we are as long as we're in a hole to protect us from every other person on the planet. We know who we are when we're all the same, and there's a kind of comfort in homogeny. Diversity is just a catchphrase, and individuality is a dirty word.
Welcome to our ghetto.
