In a neighborhood of Seville, whose name I remember, not long ago there lived a boy of fifteen raised in the most absolute of emotional misery. Respect for him for that reason alone, I'll spare you the nasty details of a life marked by neglect, the most monstrous lack of empathy about him and other circumstances that are often made many jokes on such shows as Aida and People who laugh a lot.
came this guy to fall in love with a young something greater than he who, for no change, not his. As there was no way to get rid of the guy who wanted it most in his life, took him to the environment for who knew more queers and so they flew alone. In a few weekends, the uncle and his friends became the child in the clown of the gang, and engaged him to believe that this or that guy had noticed him and throw it like a dog and laughing at the upcoming pumpkins they gave him. They had as they say-so in some literary circles of the environment-the "slut" group, and made much fun of it over his shoulder as they cheered as the best of friends.
The boy fell into the network that we have all gone: indiscriminate promiscuity and disappointment as hosts, basically. They say they set up house in Madrid and boyfriend made a camel. They say that rare was the day he entered the house and the spouse was not getting streaks or three at a fucking on the couch with two guys in two. They say it was killing him, the pain was becoming unbearable. Said that one night, finding again the same scene as usual, exploded and told her boyfriend everything loudly. You're killing me, "he said. They say he ran to the window and jumped. His nineteen he threw out the window, struck like a nest of eggs which have not yet come the birds. Nineteen years without reaching a glimpse of what was a caress, a hug, I love you. Say. No: do not say. He told me his mother I called to say he was dead.
That week I met the guy who had loved this child dearly, without waiting for anything in return. I made the inevitable question with a smile of banality between puffs of smoke that deserved to be destroyed to hosts.
- Have you heard about ***? How strong, right? (Sonrisa. Hollow.)
- Yes, I heard. What do you think of this? To you I loved you so much.
- Psss ... Well, I do not know ... Well, how about you how are you? What is your life? We go out tonight? Where can we go?
Twenty seconds. The fag gave twenty seconds to talk about the death of those most wanted and want in your life.
is proudest to be queer.
came this guy to fall in love with a young something greater than he who, for no change, not his. As there was no way to get rid of the guy who wanted it most in his life, took him to the environment for who knew more queers and so they flew alone. In a few weekends, the uncle and his friends became the child in the clown of the gang, and engaged him to believe that this or that guy had noticed him and throw it like a dog and laughing at the upcoming pumpkins they gave him. They had as they say-so in some literary circles of the environment-the "slut" group, and made much fun of it over his shoulder as they cheered as the best of friends.
The boy fell into the network that we have all gone: indiscriminate promiscuity and disappointment as hosts, basically. They say they set up house in Madrid and boyfriend made a camel. They say that rare was the day he entered the house and the spouse was not getting streaks or three at a fucking on the couch with two guys in two. They say it was killing him, the pain was becoming unbearable. Said that one night, finding again the same scene as usual, exploded and told her boyfriend everything loudly. You're killing me, "he said. They say he ran to the window and jumped. His nineteen he threw out the window, struck like a nest of eggs which have not yet come the birds. Nineteen years without reaching a glimpse of what was a caress, a hug, I love you. Say. No: do not say. He told me his mother I called to say he was dead.
That week I met the guy who had loved this child dearly, without waiting for anything in return. I made the inevitable question with a smile of banality between puffs of smoke that deserved to be destroyed to hosts.
- Have you heard about ***? How strong, right? (Sonrisa. Hollow.)
- Yes, I heard. What do you think of this? To you I loved you so much.
- Psss ... Well, I do not know ... Well, how about you how are you? What is your life? We go out tonight? Where can we go?
Twenty seconds. The fag gave twenty seconds to talk about the death of those most wanted and want in your life.
is proudest to be queer.
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