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Funeral for the Straight Boy
You ever felt something die inside you while you were still breathing? that’s what this is. the slow funeral of everything you swore you were. i talk, you twitch, and piece by piece that straight-boy act starts to rot. you’ll feel it slipping—your confidence, your resistance, that fake control you cling to. i don’t ask for surrender; i take it. you’ll listen because you can’t not. by the end, there’s no “you” left—just the version i built, trembling and awake.
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