Be Normal

Chapter Three - Fleek Game Too Weak

I learned so many things about myself yesterday. So many false and dumb things, like how I'm not "flossy and glossy", and how my "fleek game be too weak". DaaaaFUQ does that even mean? I don't see how this is propper grammar to the slightest, like did we just run out of word ideas that made sense? Like um government people, wanna help much? Honestly, I can't say anything seeing as the majority of what I say isn't proper english either, so I pretty much just contradicted myself. Um, hello me, wanna think much?
I honestly can't think much right now because, well, it's five o'clock in the morning and ain't nobody got time to think AT FIVE O'DAYUM CLOCK IN THE MORNIN'!!! I feel 'hahhrriboll' right now, like I don't know how I haven't started slurring my words yet.D{VGshduahjui hwhudh huwhre hwhd hwhd hawty that's me, thotty that's she. LITERALLY DYING. Oh wait shhh my momma comin'. 'Mother' looked very tired and angry, so I wasn't going to try her right now. She stood in front of the glass french doors, looking at me with a "take yo ass to sleep" kind of face. Then she spoke. "TOPHER!", she ever so cringingly said," why are you not in bed? ".
"Cause I was waitin' to see yo' lov-el-y face giiiiirl." I smiled and waited for a reaction, which was indeed the "take yo' ass to sleep" look, and then she proceeded to say take yo' ass to sleep so I did. On the way to talking my yass, I realized that I was hungry so stopped by the bathroom to go look at myself in the mirror cause, you know how you do the opposite of what you think when you're tired. After looking at my face for a good seven minutes, I started to get very insecure and disappointed, and started to 'harm' myself. Obviously verbally because, daaaaFUQ I look like finna cut myself over some insecurities, just because I'm self aware don't mean I'ma cut myself. ANYWAY, I walked off to bed and just kinda cried. I wish we never cried, because it's so hard for me to do so. I'd need at least ten minutes until a tear starts to drip out of one of my eyes, which gets me even sadder. Although, this problem can come in handy in public, because no one actually knows how hurt I am. And while this feeling may suck booty, it helps me build walls and not seem very vulnerable and break the stereotypes for most gay people. Honestly, it shouldn't be to hard I mean, I've been like this all my life since my father left me. He isn't completely gone cause I still see him on weekends and holidays but, When I'm with him, I feel like nothing. Ive always looked up too him, even after he left because I didn't understand and he said he was coming back but, now I just feel like I'm in last place in his life, not even a number. There is no quantity deep enough or big enough to explain how down the list I feel from him. No amount of space on the longest piece of paper to fit my name and make a priority. To be honest with you, I haven't seen him in three months. I'm possed' to see him every other weekend........ This is why I hate my face. Because every mark or zit I stare into looks like a little brown island full of my pain and hurtful past. I can't write in the diary. Not now. I might just burn it.