Twenty-One Wilted Roses

"...And in just three weeks, we will be having our Senior Graduation..."

Finally.

Three weeks to go.

I hate this school.

I hate this town.

I hate my life.

" Hey Fag, you gonna go down to one of them queer towns when you get outta this shit hole?"

I heard this just as a paper ball hit my head.

Again.

It happens every day.

I just turn around and glare.

Why waste my words on him?

There was no one to talk to at my school.

Its a Southern Babtist dominated school.

Full of hardcore republicans.

I come from a family of Episcopalians.

Hardcore librals.

Naturally, I and my family are hated.

Naturally, even more now that I "Came out".

Naturally, i'm going to hell.

At least thats what Steve says.

Steve is the one who through the ball.

Big, bad and tough, his family owned a farm.

During the summer he worked there, it toughened him up a bit.

He's the one who through the ball everyday.

I had a mark on my cheek where he through them.

I had three more weeks of this.

And then a whole life of shit.

Wait.

Why am I still living here?

This is hell, isn't it?

Could it get more worse than this?

I hear the ring of the bell.

Its time to leave.

Time.

To.

Leave.

So I run to the bathroom.

No one sees me.

No one ever does.

I turn into a stall.

I reach into my pocket.

I pull out the bottle of asprin.

For headaches.

I get them often.

Very often.

So I take the whole bottle.

Dump it down my throat.

And swallow.

I shut my eyes.

Minutes pasted.

The world was starting to spin.

I was starting fade.

I could see all the good left in the world.

I could see all the hate that made me die.

I could feel no pain.

Just love.

For once I felt love.

But it was all too late.

One day soon I would have been accepted.

The world will love.

Gay like me will be accepted.

One day.

One day....

I am not one of the lucky ones.
I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school.
It was simply too much to bear.