Second Thought

Call me biased for this work of fiction, you're probably right. :P



Never going home

Last thought in my head as the bullet shot me dead piercing the heart that never knew love in its shortly lived life

You see I was from a place deep in the heart of America, a straight laced, single minded place where women love men and men love women.

I loved a man though, and being a man, I’ll do all that I can to hide this fact… Correction, did. Keep forgetting I’m dead, it messes with your head to live that lie every day that now being dead doesn’t feel so different than the life I was made to live.

A long time ago when I was too young to know what they were doing, how they were hurting me, they tore out my soul and put in the soul of a “real man”. Patting the seams where they sew me down with lashes of belts and tongues and before I knew what was going on I was the perfect example, of the perfect man; assertive, strong, fearless, but cold, calculating, unfeeling,

Then the war came, and “they” threatened to kill us. It was such a despicable, heinous, unspeakable thing to threaten, that we couldn’t help but try it out ourselves, in the name of honor, and America of course. So being the big strong man, I became a strange man in a strange land, murdering… excuse me, neutralizing the threat that was presented to me. Giving a gift to others that I so longed for myself, for my body to reflect my soul. For the death on the inside to become complete.

Death, isn’t so bad, when you’re dead. The others disagree with me though. They argue that, because I never truly lived, there’s nothing to miss. Did I need to feel the lips of a man to have lived? Did I need to have felt love? It makes me feel better when I lie and say no.