To You My "Friend"

Fuck you.

There I said it. And no I am not talking about anyone I know when I put friend in quotes. This isn't your typical high school drama between two tweenage girls. This is a legitimate "Fuck you I am stronger because of you." Man to man. Hermano a hermano.

What you did to me Saturday night was ignorant stupid and stereotypical. I don't care that we are from the same "minority." I don't care if you are just like me in many ways. You are not me. And you don't know me. What happened was rude, cruel, and horrible all the same. You have no idea how what you did fucked me up in my head. Sure, it was nothing to you, it was a simple ordinary act. But not to ME. And that is where the problem lies. You didn't consider me in your drunk ass stupor. And you, a complete stranger, invaded my privacy in a way even people that know me have failed to do.

I went home and I cried. Not because of you. I wouldn't shed a tear over you, you two piece of shit. Not even two pieces, try one. No I cried because twice before you this was done. And it hurt. It hurt like hell. And those two times were out of  malice from people I knew and maybe even slightly trusted. You opened up an old old door that was never meant to be opened again. Memories and emotions that have dictated my life for the majority of my waking life came flooding back in. And all thanks to you.

You went home, probably passed out, sobered up and woke up with a terrible hangover. But that hangover would be gone by Monday. My experience would drag out. Still is 48 hours later. Asshole. I don't know your name, I can't really remember what you look like. But I don't want to. And I am not being over dramatic. I am being real, something that what happened wasn't. Least it shouldn't have been. So fuck you. I am stronger because of what happened in my past. And while you screwed me up big time, I will move on. Stronger, better because of you.

My hand reaches for yours, hoping you will grasp. You do conditionally.

Why can't you just hold my hand like you used to, when I was young and frail?

Can a grown man not also be frail and weak?

No.


I want to be three, utterly dependent and naive.

Erase my mistakes, bring back my unadulterated joy.

Can I not regress to a past better than my present?

No.


Tell me things will be okay, that I am loved, I am wanted.

Show me that you see past those parts of me you don't like.

Can I be the man you want me to be?

No.


The present is as much my own as my past.

I turn to the rising sun to own another day.

Can I ever be loved again like before?

Hope.