It’s that time of the year. Thanksgiving is next week so ‘Black Friday’ is almost here. Some plan for this day the entire year. I could care less, for my life is dark, day after day and year after year.
Our home is large, beautifully lit and well decorated. At our Thanksgiving dinner, we are surrounded by hypocrites, who know they are hated.
Our beautiful garden is maintained by José and his three small children. It is unseen by most, for it is heavily gated. Jose’s children are the only people who are not hated. Why? Perhaps they have conquered my parent’s hearts? But how? They are not related.
We live in the Grand Prestigious Estates but our home lacks the warmth that love generates. Thanks to my parents, we are the neighbors that everyone hates.
As a child, I could not understand why I was not allowed to play with my neighbor, my only classmate. I’m older and I now know that my parent’s hearts are full of hate. Do they hate me for being gay? It’s not my fault. I didn’t choose this life or to be born this way.
I can’t tell my days apart. I don’t need a ‘Black Friday’ for my days are always dark. I’ve had many dreams of the love and warmth that exists in a small cozy home. Not one day goes by without me wishing I lived in a small trailer park. To me, all Fridays are dark.