Sweet City Lights

It’s 12:45 AM, and I feel my feet pound on the pavement.

Thirst took me here, outside of my Chicago hotel room, and onto the street with a friend. We tried to obtain water through room service, but they stated that they wouldn’t have any until 4 AM. When my friend and I asked where the nearest location we could buy some was, a helpful employee told us that there was a gas station five lights down.

So we left. Outside, the frigid air forced my arms to clutch across my chest, and the black skinny jeans and sweatshirt I wore were not enough to keep me warm. I wasn’t freezing, exactly, but the cold made me want to cover myself with a ton of thick blankets. My friend who accompanied me wore nothing but jeans and a white T-shirt, and he managed to muscle through without complaining.

As we walked, completely alone – aside from a few cars passing by – he began conversation and I followed.

Finding Funny

Today, I was accused of sleeping with a female friend.

Today, also, I had a friend come to my house for the first time in about four years.

It felt so strange when she entered the front door. To see a living, breathing, friend step foot into where I reside. The last time I had a friend over was in middle school, and that had ended badly. He had touched and repositioned a globe precious to my mom, and she yelled at him right in front of me. Needless to say, that experience scarred me for quite some time and left me hesitant to have anyone over.

We both sent texts to our parents, and surprisingly, they acquiesced to our requests and allowed my friend to come over.

Are You Gay?

Around 1:15 PM, I trudge from AP Biology to AP Calculus. Three AP classes down, one more to go, I think.

“Thomas!”

I hear someone call my name and turn. It’s a junior, a friend of mine who I had a class with two years ago but had not spoken to for quite some time. I wait for her to catch up, and when she does, we continue walking to our classes together.

“What do you think of AP Bio?” she asked.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” I reply, “everyone is so quiet though, and there are a lot of juniors. What do you think of the class?”

She repositions her dark brown hair with her hand, and says, “It’s alright. Do you mind if I ask you a question though? Like, I don’t mean it in an offensive way, but…”

As she leaves her sentence halfway done and hanging in the air, I already know what she’s going to ask.

Saying Yes

It’s 11:00 PM, and my blood boils.

“It’s just so stupid!” I hiss into my cell phone.

“Thomas, it’s not like they’re anti-gay themselves just because they’re selling food from Chick-fil-A,” she says.

I feel a poison settle in my soul, and a weight that won’t lift for the remainder of the night. I want to do something, anything that will appease my moral appetite – anything that I think will set right what is so horribly wrong.

“Obviously they’re not anti-gay,” I say,” but they’re knowingly endorsing a chain that is! Everyone knows about Chick-fil-A, and they clearly had other options – they just wanted to sell what would profit the most, even if it meant giving money to the people who are against me.”