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Come on, admit it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're a homosexual, or, at the very least, slightly sexually confused, if you want me to use of those euphemisms my English teacher was always going on about. There's no use trying to hide it from me. Number one, we're friends, and number two, I have an infallible gay-dar that has never malfunctioned, except for that one time where I chased a man in a fairy suit down about fifty alleyways before I learned that he was really a very masculine woman. It wasn't my fault, it really wasn't! She even had facial hair and everything. Plus, she had some of the beefiest arms I'd ever seen. In fact, she was more buff than you, my brother, and this chickpea sandwich put together. And trust me, chickpeas can be quite buff when they want to be.

But that's besides the point I'm trying to make. The point is, you're gay, and I don't think that will ever change. I mean, those shrinks that tried to cure homosexuality were really just trying to suppress a human being's innate desire for others that were of the same sex as him or her. In my very humble and un-opinionated opinion, they were about as intelligent as giant potatoes from outer space. I mean, a faggot's a faggot, whether you want him to be or not- oh fine, I'm sure you'd rather I was a bit more politically correct. Fine, gay people are gay and gay is said as gay is done. Just like how eggs are eggs and cheese is cheese. Mm, cheese. Do you like blue cheese or-

Arrgh! I really need to stop changing the subject, dammit! Or I'm never going to get to get my argument across and you'll always be living in your little bubble of fear and anger and pain and whatever comes from hiding the person you really are. We need to give it a name. That's because according to the Wonderful Genius School of Psychology, things are happy when they have names, because they feel like they're loved and they belong! So anyway, let's call this place you're in right now the closet, just because we're unoriginal like that. A closet of horror, despair, and a place in which you need to face the inner turmoil of the depths of the human soul. There's a happy, sparkly world outside, but you're too afraid to step out. Come on, WHY!

Admit it, you're just afraid. Afraid! Well I'm going to convince you that there's absolutely nothing to be scared of. There were lots of wonderful homosexuals out there, and I'm sure there are some around at the moment, if you Google them or something. Famous homosexuals of the 21st Century. I think that sounds like a book title, don't you? Maybe I'll be the author of that book and you'll be one of the gay people in it, then I'll share out some of the royalties with you and we can be rich and run off to Vegas together. But you've got to come out first. Oh, come on, don't gape at me like that, you know exactly what I'm talking about, and you know you want to do it. There's a giant carrot in front of you outside the closet-bubble-whatever and there's absolutely nothing that's stopping you from leaving, except for the possibility that the carrot is rotten. Let me tell you this, though, the carrot is awesome and orange and shiny and pretty. Shiny.

Girls like shiny things, therefore they like gay guys, therefore they think that all gay men are hot. Wait, that's cause-effect logic, and it's really not very intelligent come to think of it. Anyway you wouldn't really want women dropping themselves at your feet, would you? That would probably just make things harder, if you know what I mean. Plus you're a nice person and I'm sure you have absolutely no intention of stomping on girls' hearts and shattering them into a million pieces. But hey, I'm sure that you'd learn how to work the whole "I'm sorry-but-I'm-gay-can-we-be-good-friends" routine pretty well pretty quickly. Trust me, once they learn to accept it, you'll learn that platonic friendships are the true source of happiness and all that is good in this wonderful world.

Of course, I'm sure you're also doubting society's perception of you, blah, blah, blah, what people will think, blah, blah, blah, and how you being a faggot is going to fit into the larger scheme of things- all that crap and whatnot. I suppose there are homophobes out there, because we have to be realistic. I'd like to say who cares about them, but I can't really do that because you, being a Sensitive New Age Guy, will inevitably worry about them, won't you? Well, Elton John is gay, and look how many gazillion albums he's made and sold all over the face of this tiny planet. It hasn't stopped Disney from making him sing haroom-harah, haroom-harah, haroom-harah in the Lion King. No wait, was that Elton John or was that someone else? I can't remember.

But who cares! My point is, gay guys are like the marshmallows in my coffee: they aren't always there, some people aren't going to like them, but the people that do will want to cuddle them because they're just so awesome. And they would ask the waitress for some more if this stupid cafe wasn't a stingy little shitpile that's threatened to drag me out of here by my heels if I didn't stop protesting against their one-marshmallow-per-mug policy. Bleh, back to the marshmallow- by not eating the marshmallow, you are denying it of its purpose of existence.

Now, who would I be to deny you of your purpose of existence? Which is, of course, to be GAY! GAY AND PROUD OF IT!

So, what was I saying earlier about blue cheese?

:D

Individually we are awesome but together we are EPIC.

We lie legally through the help of a board and its keys to the world and beyond.

...well, hey there.
Apparently, this section is DEAD.
-sniffs-
...you're welcome to attempt to resuscitate it. Please. ANYBODY.
...please? -hint.hint-
(oh, whilst you're at it, you're also welcome to guess who wrote this. HMM.)
Once upon a time, there was a girl who had the misfortune to have been named Superglue by her parents.

basically just stuff you need to do, like homework and projects. or you could change this to any other stuff you want yeah?