And being gay doesn't help it. It aggrandizes the problem.

Tonight I had some kind of mental breakthrough. I suppressed it, but it was the closest thing to freedom that I have felt.

There I was in the theatre with Will just having a beautiful moment. We were snuggling and I was kissing his beautiful head.

Suddenly I turned away and witnessed a fat teenage boy staring smugly at us then whisper something sardonic to his dad.

I picked up my oversized soda and thrust my arm out for a pitcher's blow. But I couldn't do it. I felt my arm go lame and my voice choke.

But the voice inside my head knew what was up. And my arm sure knew well what to do.

It felt amazing and empowering. And somehow all the confidence erupted.

I stormed outside and quite loudly announced that I hated straight people and Christians and fatass teenage boys and everyone else.

And I suppose I meant every ugly word. Otherwise why would I say it?

"A good Christian is a dead Christian" Will said and I chortled delightfully. All this ugliness escaped me and it felt ruthless and wonderful.

I am just so angry because I am the sweetest person alive and still I'm never good enough. I'm never good enough for the fucked-up indigent racist Mexicans in this neighborhood who preach my death for being homosexual, for all the Suburban housewives with their Christian dogma that opposses my existence, for my family and their discomfort when I touch my lover in front of them, for fat minorities who try to oppress my people when they should really know better more than anyone else what it's like to be nailed to a cross, and for every smirking oaf in this country who makes kissey noises when I'm in Suburbia with my boyfriend.

I've been physically beaten up by guys for being homosexual, I've been called "faggot" by black guys on the street, I've experienced the brunt of every facet of people's aggression.

People want me dead. People are trying to kill us. Our President wants us dead. America thinks we are animals and does everything they can with their 8 million movies about marriage and babies to tell us we are WRONG. People pretend we don't exist, that our plight doesn't matter. And then they infiltrate our culture and claim it as their own. They infest our style, our clubs, our lives and take over.

And fags do nothing about it. They say, "It's about equality, man". Well listen, kids--especially YOU San Franciscan fags--those WASP mothers with their baby carriages in the gay ghetto are the ones who are approving laws that oppress us. They are the ones who eventually drill in on our openness and condemn our porno stores and sexy posters and the like because their "children might see them". They hate us. They want to squash us.

So how do I manage the anger? How do I temper the violence in me that genuinely wishes to physically hurt others?

I am flawed but I am beautiful. I have more respect for myself these days and injustice is so much more intolerable.

When I have a beautiful moment and the lifeforce is sucked from me dry from a self-hating vampire, I have a right to be angry.

I am a good person and life is unfair. How do I embrace it but not allow myself to be walked all over?

Well, we shall see the next time I'm put on the spot. Hopefully, I'll have the strength to put my emotions to good use.