Author's Note: Okay, this is written in a…well, mostly first person point of view. Basically, it's strange the way the point of view came about lol. Enjoy, and please review :) May be confusing at first, but I'm sure if you've read any of my other stories, you won't be like "what the hell?" so much at the beginning lol.

Did you know that homosexuals are murderous, God-hating, perverts? Did you know that they hate people, obviously, of course, hate themselves, and care nothing about the good of others? They worship evil. In fact, in their eyes, there is absolutely nothing better on this good earth.

Generally, there are no heterosexual rapists, perverts, and sex-offenders of any kind. There are, of course, those few… Did you know that? (I didn't either.) Oh, and by the way, there are no homosexuals that aren't this way. We're all hatred. It's a well-known fact, really. All one has to do is read the paper…

…though I really recall reading about mostly heterosexual sex-offenders, but that's really beside the point. Homosexuals need lessons, which, of course, our good world gives provides them quite easily (mostly without our consent).

You may be wondering how, indeed, are these awful humans kept in line, and taught good lessons. Well, let me tell you that we are very fortunate to have men and women happy to protect the world from the homosexuals. I like to refer to them as "Gay bashers".

Don't be fooled by the terrible name! We need the bashers to help free the world of such chaos and turmoil. See, they are the good people. I've met them on countless occasions, myself. Being homosexual, well, they weren't quite friendly to me, but you see, they are doing the right thing.

What do they do, exactly?

Slowly, they tear your pride, hope, and faith to pieces. They bruise your body along with your soul, breaking your heart in half as they do so. I remember the abuse I suffered, the names, the pain during and after. If I had not been given the police that evening, I really don't know what might have happened. I would have slipped into death, no doubt what they wanted. One less of me in the world, as far as they could see it.

And so I give you the greatest people in the world! The haters, the fighters, the destroyers, and heartbreakers make life worth living.

Honestly, though, this is what we're teaching? Those who try with all of their might to be accepted should really deal with the fact that they're going to be hated anyway? Do we really wish for kids to see bashers as heroes? Is that the plan? If so, I fear for the safety of the gays and, well, any other minority. Hell, if you want to call us another species, so be it. I fear for my kind, in that case because I will never again feel ashamed.

I will never again listen to a hateful comment by some ignorant bastard, and guiltily wish I were in his shoes.

I will never again try to force my mind from thinking about my boyfriend to thinking of Ellie. It never quite worked, anyway.

I will never again wear clothes that I think make me look like some uncaring boy who woke up three minutes before school began with no fashion sense whatsoever, just because I think that it makes me more like every other guy, makes me look normal…which brings me to:

I will never again try to be normal! It's completely overrated, and quite frankly, time-consuming. In fact, the word normal has been erased, from this moment on, from my vocabulary.

"Really?"

"Shh," said Marco, nudging Dylan in the side. "I'm not finished."

"You really tried to put Ellie in your head in place of me?" asked Dylan, still reading over his shoulder.

Marco rolled his eyes. "Babe, you should feel honored that I wasn't able to do it."

I will never care about what other people think again for I know that their opinions are really not worth my time.

I will not let myself feel pain over things I cannot change, including myself.

I will look into the mirror, and not want to smash it.

Most importantly, I will be happy with who I am, what I am, and what shall happen in the future because as long as I know I'm loved, that will be enough to get me by.

Dylan smiled, saving the document onto his laptop, mentally noting that he wanted to post it on their bedroom wall. He leaned over, and kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "I'm proud of you," he said.

"Thanks," said Marco. "I'm kind of proud of me too, actually."

"You know," said Dylan, taking Marco's hand to help him off the couch, "I kind of thought you were referring to me as one of those…what was it," he turned the laptop toward him again, "…like some uncaring boy who woke up three minutes before school began with no fashion sense whatsoever. Were you?"

Marco smiled guiltily. "Well," he started, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck. "You're a lot of good things, Dylan, but dressing…fashion…it's, it's really not your forte."

Dylan laughed. "Don't even get me started. Watching you with—"

"Okay, okay, we get it!" said Marco, letting go of Dylan, "I can't play hockey to save my life." He closed the computer, taking it with him as they walked to the bedroom. "Does that memory just constantly replay in your mind?"

Dylan closed the door behind them "Mhmm. Seriously, though," he said, his tone changing while he took off his shoes on the edge of the bed, "your bashing…it really made you hate yourself, didn't it?"

Marco sighed, nodding. "Yes, it did."

"Well, I'm just sorry it was my fault you were out there, being that it was my game you were going to," said Dylan, lying down beside him.

"No one's fault, okay?"

"Okay," said Dylan reluctantly.

Author's Note: Yeah, so I'm afraid this story really didn't have a point lol. It was just…some sarcastic comment someone made when I was outside that really put the idea into my head. Nevertheless, I hope you liked it. Please review.