I was never good at math, but I have been counting calories for as long as I can remember…

You put a bandaid on a gun shot wound and expect it to heal.
You expect it to stop hurting, just by covering it up.
You expect all of the pain to go away.
You expect your hair to start growing in blonde instead of brunette.
And that simply
isn’t
going
to happen.

It is hard, however, to imagine the unimaginable.
It is hard to fathom what you do not understand.
It is hard to accept people who are different…

But you know what is harder?

You helped me figure out what I was thinking…what I had trouble putting into words.
I told you all of my thoughts and dreams, and about all of my nightmares and scars.
I often wondered where you had been,
and who left you
and why.

I hold my right thumb against the home button on my iPhone because that’s apparently how technology works now and it’s not working. It doesn’t recognize my thumb print.
C’MON STEVE JOBS!

Why must she be prettier than me?
And if she is in fact “pretty”, then I don’t want to be pretty.
I want to be something else; something that only I can be because I am me…