I’m a phobic.
I’m told by society what a phobic I am.
My opinions are diagnosed by people, not doctors, and they say I am a phobic.
“Caitlyn scares me” – You’re transphobic!
“Gay Marriage offends me” – You’re homophobic!
“I am pro-life” – You’re decidophobic!
If I thought Caitlyn was amazing, would I be labeled cisphobic?
Or if I supported gay marriage, would I be labeled heterophobic?
Or if I were pro-choice, am I an agoraphobic?
What I really think doesn’t matter, and you don’t have to excuse me as I continue to point out the hypocrisy.
Your labels are for everyone else. You never diagnosed yourself.
When do the people, excuse me, the “doctors” of today’s society stop labeling me?
“You’re this,” “You’re that,” “You can’t say this,” “You can’t say that.”
The gag order you’ve given me has gagged me too much.
I only vomit what I feel now, no thanks to you.
I only vomit what I say, no thanks to you.
And the worst part about it is:
You won’t clean my vomit up.
You sit and stare at it and act disgusted by it.
But you caused it by shoving your finger of “justice” down my throat.
So far down, you unhinged my bowels.
And so you made me sick.
I’ve decided, I think you’re the phobic!
Yeah you! The one who has a fear of thinking for themselves.
The one that fears they have to stand alone.
The one afraid to have a voice of their own.
I know there is a name for this but I am not a doctor.
I’m a phobic.
Just a guy from Redlands, California married to a thug wife, raising 5 ganstas, trying to make it through the struggle through writing. Full time Christian, Husband, Daddy, Engineer. Part time blogger, gamer, aspiring novelist.