You’re Gay And I’m Not – MyOpinion

So, here I am, on a topic that has over the last lots-of-months gone from being hot cake to I-don’t-know-what – LGBT.
I’m sure you know that the US Supreme Court has legalized homosexuality in all fifty states of their country – stale story, yeah? I know, so I won’t dwell on it.

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“…And That’s How I Would Have Committed Suicide”

By Sharon Olanrewaju

You know, often times when I hear or read people give testimonies like:
“I was depressed and tired of life, I wanted to commit suicide. No one cared about me, I was an insignificant part of everyone’s life. Even my family never cared for me. The day I decided I was going to put an end to it all, an end to my life, I was walking down the road and saw this lady who smiled at me. I was so surprised I wasn’t even sure if I was supposed to smile back. I felt so special, at least one person noticed me and gave me a smile; that smile changed my life and because of that I decided against commiting suicide”

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The Nice Girl Next Door

By Sharon Olanrewaju

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©Veronica Coulston

I never liked her
I would never admit to being jealous of her though
She always had this gentle smile, the kind seen in the movies – bright
eyes, pink lips,white set of teeth…
You could almost kiss her!
It was just perfect… too perfect.
She’d say a good morning, then accentuate it with her smile, then
add ‘have a blissful day!’
I mean, WHO IN THE WORLD SAYS ‘HAVE A BLISSFUL DAY?!'”
And the smile would always be there.
It was like she did it to taunt me,
I could hear the smile singing: ‘YOU CAN NEVER BE LIKE Me la la la la
la, SUCK IT UP.”
I hate her.
I swear, I do!

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Get Out!

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So the other day, I sat by this girl in class who couldn’t just stay out of my space! I mean, the space was just enough for a voluptuous chocolate beauty like me;););), now imagine having someone literally breathing all over my face, talking in my ears and spreading food all over my body!
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Aaarrgghh!!!

Why can’t people just man their spaces and not get into someone else’s? Why must you keep touching my arm, stroking my hair and twirling the strap of my handbag between your fingers all because you’re so engrossed in whatever you’re saying and you can’t help but ‘touch something’.
Keep your hands to yourself!

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Oya, die O!

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