Here I am yet again, just lying here alone once more against the smooth and almost inviting grass to calm my roaring thoughts that I just can't seem to shake worth a damn. Quite frankly, it's actually quite tranquil and peaceful despite it being early morning here in Vacuo. I decided to sit up and stretch a bit before applying pressure to my back with me hands and yawn. I felt the screams of the wind which decided to pelt my face in forceful gusts for some unknown reason from time to time but would always quickly subside to peace again.

I ran my finger over a blade of grass and allowed the moisture to adhease to my finger and form a massive drop that would flee to my wrist when it reached a certain size. Another gust decided, again, to make a desperate attempt to knock me over again, which it almost did if I hadn't placed my hand down to anchor myself to the Vacuean soil. I placed my hair back to its original position and played with the blades of grass between my fingers again.

I decided to lie back down after a bit and allow the strong gusts of wind strike my face and take the water droplets and strike me with them like liquid bullets from an invisible machine gun for its own pleasure. That was the world though. It all just seemed to take the pleasure of beating me despite my efforts to please it. I rolled over and again played with the blades after wiping my face of the moisture of the water mixed with dried tears from earlier.

This routine has just remained all too familiar to me, but I enjoy being out here with my companions. After all, this was what I was named after, both first and last. I enjoy nature and don't particularly mind sharing both first and last name with it. I hope, despite how silly and childish this really is that nature itself doesn't mind either. I scooped up a bit of moisture from the grass and played with it by letting it run across my finger as I pointed it up and down only to allow of gust of wind to pry it away from my cruelty and allow it to return to the grass, home. I only smiled as I appreciated the wind's concern.

I picked a blade of grass from the ground and examined it and thought fondly of the moisture seeing how my name reflected it. I held the blade up and released it so the wind would cradle briskly to the ground and thought fondly of that, seeing that, again, my name resembles it. I commonly love to imagine myself as water droplets on the morning grass seeing how my first name means exactly that: Dew. I even imagine myself as the wind sometimes, seeing how my last name means a strong wind: Gayl. I guess this is pretty evident, but my name is Dew Gayl from a popular team from a prestigious academy called Shade Combat Academy. I'm the second in command of Team NDGO (indigo) right next to Nebula Violette.

I finally decided to stand up and wipe what I could off of my dress and held my head up high with my nose pointed towards the air. This morning, I was finally ready to face the day by closing the dam behind my eyes as usual after following my basic morning ritual of lounging about. I was emotionally stable and at peace for a bit with myself once again, but it would only be for a short while. I guess you could say that my life has lead me up and down this emotional rollercoaster, but it would normally consist of long, slow, and agonizing cruises through the bottom of the emotional abyss that consisted of most of the days, but some awkward, short periods of sudden energy would follow before forcing me to plummet back down into emotional lows again.

These would be the periods where I'd write the most, and it would normally consist of tales of emotional agony, and rarely self-mutilation. None of my stories ended well for anybody ever. They normally consisted of the characters starting off rocky, but it would always get better for the protagonists until somewhere towards the end. I would normally begin writing when the clouds of my mind begin to clear and have motivation and energy to actually write, but it's not until the end of them that I start hitting emotional lows again.

I don't know why, but I just can't seem to help it and definitely can't seem to shake it either. It all just seems to happen so quickly, so I just prepare myself for the day by making the desperate attempt to shake it off early every morning. Taking a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and make my semi-merry way back into the little shack, at least that's what I like to call it, and physically get myself ready for school.

As soon as I had reentered the little shack of a home, there she stood in the kitchen preparing lunch as usual and giving me a brief wave to signal she acknowledged my presence. She brushed her bangs over a little more to the left side of her face since it was getting in her eyes again. She repositioned her jacket, flipped her hair a bit, and rolled up the right sleeve of the jacket half way up her arm before grabbing her black gloves, one long and one short, and allowed them to dangle from her back pocket which the tail of the jacket would promptly cover. I could see a bit of the long black glove peek through the slit of the tail behind her.

I blushed a little stupidly, but I wasn't going to allow this feeling take hold of me. After standing and staring for a bit, I shook everything and proceeded to use the restroom, assuming Octavia's fat rear wasn't in it filling the void of the bathroom. With my nose up high and with confident posture, I walked over to the bathroom, took a deep breath, and faced myself in the mirror briefly before relieving myself from holding it all in all night long. I had pulled my dress up, had pulled the netting and undergarments down with a little effort and proceeded in my endeavors. The netting is a nice touch to my overall apparel, but it often gets in the way of performing the most basic, yet mundane, and essential tasks such as relieving myself, but I don't pay any mind since it often gives me little problems.

After I had finished, I had lifted my dress and wadded some toilet paper up and had scooped the urine from the vulva of the urethra and the parts of the clitoris below it. I briefly went and cleaned the sides of my labias to ensure that I was dry and excess toilet paper didn't get caught in between. I took the time to wipe my rear end to ensure that that I was dry with about one and a half wads of toilet paper. I missed one spot that started to itch, so I took a small wad and wiped that.

I had pulled my undergarments up first before the netting since it was often easier to do so. After pulling the net up and readjusting it around my waist, I washed my hands and flushed the toilet using my big toe. I splashed some cold water on my face to wash away any drowsiness that still lingered. I had dried my hands off, brushed my hair, and went into my room adjacent to the bathroom. I threw my clothes off and dressed myself for school. I would often sleep in my clothes since I had always been too lazy to simply take them off and get into some pjs. I sat on my bed and yawned a bit as I put my shoes on as well as the rest of my school uniform. What can I say? It's always too early to do anything involving… things… in day to day life, I guess.

I had gotten my things out of the room, put on my deodorant and body spray, and headed out of the room to prepare my lunch for the day since Shade will not provide us any because our families refuse to pay for a meal plan.

"Morning, Dew," Nebula called out to me as I had reentered her general fancily.

I almost flinched, but I had contained every urge that arose and said simply, "Morning, Neb," before making my way passed her. I know she felt a slight bit of discomfort as I passed by which is normal for the two of us. We rarely talk to each other anymore. She seems a bit shy about talking to me and I'm just too damn terrified and ashamed about the whole situation. She would make little glances at me, but every time our eyes met, she'd smile and look down. I could see her rosy cheeks through her tan skin. Not even the Vacuian sun could tan her enough to hide it.

I can talk to any and every girl there is and ever was, but for some reason, I can't talk to her anymore. Every time I try, I start getting tongue tied or the damn cat cuts my tongue from my throat. I know why and she doesn't sadly. Every time she's near, I can feel my chest start to tense up and flutter. God forbid I think of another woman like that! It just seems that I can't shake it, though.

This whole kingdom is a cult in and of itself! Though we follow the democratic republic kind of government ideology, everyone secretly wants this blatant theocracy without a shadow of a doubt. God forbid I sodomize Nebula with my thoughts or my presence and taint her soul with the lust of a fag like me. They'd probably hang us both. After all, she apparently enjoys my company for some unexplainable reason that I could ever comprehend.

I place my hand on the counter unconsciously, and simply out of habit, but I felt it cover something else other than the hard top. I look down to see that my hand had covered hers. She just stared at it with her face baring no color other than this beet red color. I pulled mine away out of sheer embarrassment. I lost all color to my face and replaced it with a bright red instead.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Neb," I shrieked.

She laughed uncomfortably, "Uh… ya. It's fine." She looked away almost ashamed and guilty of the events that just transpired before us both.

I pat her back and said, "Don't think anything of that. I just wasn't paying attention." I'm such an idiot! Why would I say that? That! Above all other things I could have said, I said that!

"N-n-n-n-no! I know! Trust me! I know," she said laughing uncontrollably. Silence soon rang out among the whole house. I had noticed that everything was still. I also noticed my hand was still between her shoulder blades. I had retracted it quickly, not even saying a single word then. Yup, that's just what I do. I do all the stupid things stupid faggots like me do, faggot things.

Faggot, faggot, faggot. I swear that's all I ever hear in my damned fag head is just the damn word "faggot" over and over and over again. I can't shake the fucking word! I'm a fucking queer and I can't stop being a fucking queer! I've gone through the therapies, faced the shocks, faced the torture, and I can't shake being a fag!

I started to feel the tears well up, so I stopped thinking about it and wiped what began forming. Look, today is going to be a good day for me. My faggotry will not get in the way this time. I looked back at Nebula who was still standing there, dumbfounded, and felt the faggotry start to take hold. Oh god not again! I walk passed her and dump my things into my backpack and made an attempt not to look back at her, but I couldn't resist. I saw the look of shame in her eyes and let it pluck a string in me. After all, even I know that feeling, Neb.

I couldn't stand that yearning look on her face at all. I couldn't stand the look of disappointment on her face anymore, so I decided to confront her, but then I backed down again because of the fear and shyness that took hold. Pushing through that, I went up to her and put my hand on her shoulder and smiled to give both me and her reassurance that everything was going to be okay. When I did that, though, she looked up at me with those yearning, olive-green eyes and desperately tried to hold it all back. This was horribly backfiring for both of us. I got a little too close and felt myself going in, but I had managed to stop myself in time.

Gwen and Octavia came out of their rooms. Gwen was fairly quiet; in fact, she never made a sound. I swear I could hear a pin drop as she walked by, but Octavia was loud and let the force of her weight sway from side to side as she trudged through the early morning. She was very tall in stature and had muscle which added more to her weight which made the loudest thuds when she'd roll out of bed every morning.

I stood next to Nebula and turned around as they both passed by in a drowsy, drunken-like state from the early time of day. Nebula was close, so I decided to get closer. It was almost as if it were instinctive for me to do so, and Nebula didn't move a centimeter at all. I just stood close to her as she stood, being the statue in the room. I felt a slight tugging on my hand. My reflexes told me to pull it away immediately, but it was just Nebula making a bit of a move.

The hell with it! I'm done denying myself! I'm just done trying to be cured! I'm so fucking tired of being fixed. If I'm disease ridden, I want to be happy with the disease I got because there sure as hell ain't no damn cure. Even if there is a treatment, it ain't working, so I ain't going to try again. I put my hand down, and I locked that hand into hers. I know she was surprised, Fuck you society! Try breaking this lock now because we ain't going to be broken until we are forced apart. Fuck all of you! If you're offended by me loving someone, then you're the one with the problem.