My Broken-Hearted thoughts after …

I wish the harsh words that I have in my heart for the piece of trash who shot up the LGBT club in my hometown could purge my heart of the hurt.

Of the fear.

I have friends that are gay. I have relatives that are gay.

My cousin.

My daughter.

When will my phone ring telling me that someone has ended the life of someone that I care about?

In the fevered, nightmarish, imagined daymare that this situation has induced I am frozen in shock. Moved to anger. Incited to rage.

When will my phone ring ending the dream that my life has been since that blue eyed nuisance came into my life? And her wife? Her companion that is my daughter now as well? My cousin? My friend?

My first instinct is to tell the people that I love that they are not allowed to go to these places. To stay safe. To hide.

To go back...

...In the closet...

But that would be a prison that I would not put them in. That would be a death as harsh.

They have as much right as anyone to be who they are.

As much as I do. As much as you.

Some want them to go away. To stop being different. To stop being gay. To stop being who they are. Some, clearly, want this so bad that they will devalue their lives to the point that they steal from us the light of their existence.

My heart is breaking.