I am fairly certain why you all are wondering, if gay means Earth, why I call myself gay. The answer is perfectly logical and even a little sentimental. Since I, Megarad McCooliodude Strider, grew up almost entirely isolated on a desolate rock, with only the things left in a lonesome, solitary, and inexplicably well-preserved apartment, that small and confined space amidst such a vast and seemingly endless ocean grew to be my entire world. While I may wax poetic about the connotations behind it, the truth is that I’m pretty egotistical, and as such, counting myself as “the earth itself” wouldn’t be too out of bounds for a cocky kid living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. But if somebody calls you gay, you should be flattered. Touched, even. If you’re the sort to be moved to tears, do it now. They have just called you their entire world, something that accounts for their entire state of being. And that’s beautiful.













