"SLUT!" They shout in my direction.

The hallway grows hushed as they await the reaction from me,

Me, the gay whore who slept with 4 guys

Or was it 5? 

I cant remember nowadays.

The people who pity me tell me to "Hold your head high"

So I go, head high, jugular exposed, through the halls,

But the whispers follow me.

I imagine they're just autumn leaves rustling around my feet.