Pain.

A week and a day ago, Chris Skinner was killed. And he was a friend of my friends. And it doesn’t make sense. it’s of no use to think that he was a guy who I’d only met a few times, because he affected my life more than that. He was a friend of my friends. So he was my friend. Though he didn’t know that. And neither did I. And it was irrelevant. But it’s no less affecting. I want to cry out and rage, but it’s somewhat subdued by embarrassment. After all, I hardly knew him and I was number 999 in a funeral of 1100+ so what could I do but hold hands and share tears and pray to the benevolent God up above that this would never happen to me or anyone I knew but then I stopped. Because it did happen to me. It happened to all of us. To us and all of our friends that we ever thought twice about and we left to get home when we thought we shouldn’t or didn’t walk home because the cab was too close well no more. God will no longer provide our salvation. We must make our own. I will take the time to make sure that the people I love are safe home in their beds before I do the same. The evil is the same, but their safety matters more to me than mine. I can no longer allow my friends’ sexuality to be criminalized - to the judgment of death. Their lives are my life. Their breath is my breath. Their love is my love. The last seven days have been trying. And i cannot let the next days to be more so. Bless you all.