The Cross
I don’t hate religious people. And I don’t fear all of them. Just most.
And the thing that’s ironic. When they wonder why I grow uncomfortable around them, or why I take off my rainbow bracelet, or remove my rings and straighten my stance, or deepen my voice. It’s not because my parents conditioned me to think this way. It’s because the ones with the crosses did.
When I see a cross in a house, I look for exits. When I see a cross on a necklace I prepare to turn, when I go to the bathroom I hope I won’t see crosses. When I hear religious music it sounds like the jaws theme.
And I hate myself for this, bc ik most religious people aren’t bad.
But the ones that pass me notes in the hallway saying “so and so likes u” and then follow me around for a week saying that that guys in love with me and telling my name and saying gross things too me. And the ones that say “ew Izzy almost touched me” when u get too close. And the ones that spread pictures of me in a dress around the entire school for people to laugh at. And the ones that find a picture of me in a crop top and spread that around the school.
They have “trained” me to think this way, I don’t hate religious people, heck my girlfriend is religious, my best friends religious, one of my other best friends dad is a preacher although my friend himself isn’t religious. But still I fear the cross, I fear what the people who use it will do to me.
I saw a 4 year old with a cross necklace today and he waved at me and I waved back but all I was thinking was “when this kid turns 18 he’s going to try to take my rights and ruin my life bc of who I am” and I hate that. I hate that I think that way. But it keeps me safe. So I also hate the people that made me have to think this way.

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