serendipity

lover's disease

I wasn't born an empty canvas 
I've been coloured white

It's petrifying. Friends and lovers come and go. I lie awake, recovering from their dreams. Have they known me and learnt me, before I perceived myself? What does it mean to really know me? 

If the shoe fits

I'm happy, I am content. I've always wanted to be thirteen years old. Adult-ish. Of course, I do wish that she would glance back at me. 

"That was such a good shot! I wish I was on your team." 

I wish you were on my team too. I want to know what it's like to constantly be in your presence, so much so that I want to be you. You'd never leave my side. We could sit together, I hope you'll like my favourite songs, my favourite books. I'll tell you about my family, I've been dying to know about yours. Your hair is short, but maybe I could still braid it, we could try. We could share lip gloss, but you look pretty even without it. I don't think I am as pretty as you, but I'm alright. My mom says I'm beautiful, I wish you would say it too. If we spent more time together, I swear, you would love me. I would even listen to you talking about that boy, though I want to punch him sometimes. Most of the time. I bet he wouldn't write this to you. I just wish you knew, you are my best friend. As far as best can go, I want to be the best person in your life. You are perfect. 

These girls love each other, they're inseparable.

"Your hair is longer now. Than it was when I first met you.", I say.  She smiles at me.
"That was a year ago."

I haven't told her yet. She reaches for her pen and stares into her notebook. I've researched this on YouTube, how to confess to a girl. Most of the videos assumed I was a guy, that was annoying. I watched a video about two women who got married. They seemed really happy. They said they were "lesbians". It was not the first time I heard the word. I know what "gay" means because I once called my brother gay and my parents yelled at me for a whole week. Do I love her? Yes I do. I don't know if I love her in a lesbian way though. None of the videos told me how lesbian love feels. 

Girls don't kiss, girls don't cry.

"No mom, we don't talk anymore. Just drifted apart." 
She isn't convinced, but it will have to do. Rejection is not the worst thing in the world really. Oblivion is. I was so sure about it,  I thought she could feel like me. Or maybe what I felt was fake. I won't dwell on it though. Maybe I don't actually like her that way. Maybe her rejection is punishment for my lies. 

Are you sure about that? 

My food's getting cold. I've been waiting for my boyfriend to arrive. I love him, really. I've always been so obsessed with him, and he likes me back too. We've kissed, we've done other things. It makes him happy and that's all I really want. I've come out to him, told him I'm bisexual. He said, "that's cool." He does get mad at me for no reason sometimes, and calls me slurs. I'm a sensible person, I should leave him. I know I will. I'm just not ready to do it yet. I cling to the joy of reciprocated affection more than I cling to him. 

My evening sky, pink and blue

I've been in love with people. Romantically, platonically, from far away, and up close. I don't hesitate to call it love, I hold the remnants of my lovers closer than my skin. I know they have been harsh, life has been harsh, adoration has been harsh, humiliation has been harsh. My love is so real and oh so solid, but it cannot be gripped. It's fluid, it is water, it is ever-escaping my grasp, it flows and ebbs and rises and crashes. And at one point in my life, I thought my love didn't define me. And it doesn't, it doesn't define my intellect, my abilities, my potential. But it's my most prized possession, the way I love. Freely, without condition, without doubt. As I watch from the sidelines as my friends march along, with their flags held high, my heart swells with pride. I long to march along, and holler my truth. I am not there yet, but the wait is worth it. 

My muse holds the paintbrush
I begin to colour.