I like those sensitive soft singers that exhale emotional in their songs. Artists like Coldplay and Tom Odell with that sorrowful melodious voice piercing me. I like them because they are an extension of me, they seem like I am and I want those types of men to be accepted, I want to be accepted. Not to hear the idiotic ramblings of closed minded people in Canadiana, not to weather the disappointment in a relationship when I don’t match my physical stature; muscles tear too. I am big, soft, as they call me teddy bear I must embrace the moniker. Angry Vegeta screams fester in my chest,  woe-filled tears swell and burn behind brown eyes holding on to that little boy who was happy, maybe loved the world once, loved himself. Grew with compassion but not love, never loved anything save maybe one woman, never cared as much about self more of an ego arrogance thing. Everyone says love yourself but it becomes hard, like stone walnuts needing the snap, it’s easier to spite the face and curl up in hatred, bathe in turmoil and self-abasement. Too negative. Lost Jedi coming back from exile with temporary allies, temporary joy, fleeting everything flitters away beyond the sea. Catch me.


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