You are a drag queen, rejecting yourself. You put on your make up, and your costume and you perform your show. You don’t care who you hurt, as long as you are happy. Your fans love you, because you amuse them, but when you go home at night you are alone.

To those that have seen the real side of you, you are like a clown, up there with all those lights, dancing for the crowd. You never let down your mask. You don’t like to look in the mirror unless you have your make up on; it’s too real for you to handle alone.

I see a confused boy, who wants people to love him so much that he disregards the nature of that love. I see a boy that will do anything to please the people that matter the least, but nothing to please the people that matter the most. I see a sad soul. I see a prostitute. I see a drag queen.