I was taught that the word gay meant anything but love.
I was taught to use it as an insult against those who outranked me, or those who lacked competence.
I was taught to use the word to mock and ridicule those who found happiness in places I was too afraid to look.
It became a word I used to describe all the reasons why God could not save me.
A word I often kept in the forefront of my mind, to keep the deranged and rearranged in neatly fucked up spaces--
And I would laugh when the word rolled off my tongue, despite my true being, so freely and unapologetically through the lives of those in search of peace.
It became a word with so much power that it revoked my soul and held my spirit hostage in a Hell I made special just for me.
I used that word until the pain I had suffocated.
Until my voice was not my own, but a comedian's punchline.
Until the tears were theirs and not mine.
I used the word until I reached acceptance in the form of a lover.
Only then was I shown then was the truth:
I had been taught to hate my true self,
to numb my truth in the death of others self-confidence.
Noel Farmer, who prefers to go by Zorp The Writer, can be found running around Richmond VA, with her new born son. She writes when the time is right and often at the right time. Being a mother, a business owner, and a full time MFA student, Zorp The Writer uses her present and past experiences to tackle subjects that she feels passionate about. But, like most writers, on days when procrastination gets the best of her, you can find her cozied up watching her favorite sitcom, The Office.