I’m not gay.
I’m not; I’m not; I’m not.
this isn’t ME.
It never was.
(You could just accept it, ya know.)
And have my heart spontaneously
combust or go into overdrive with the
fear and the unknown?
No, thank you very much.
I am straight…because well,
it’s what I’ve always been.
(Maybe those feelings have changed…)
Shut up, would you!
I am just……
And depressed and desperate.
The same as I ever was around her.
I like guys.
(And some girls?)
No. No. nononono. No.
Not an option.
I REFUSE to let that be an option–
Just because I had a relationship with HER,
doesn’t mean I’m gay or bi or anything.
(But what if you liked another girl in the future?)
Well I don’t!
Unless she’s femme (like myself), capable of being my best friend FIRST, and openly not straight.
Just because I’m backsliding with thoughts of her (and boy,
like those will ever go away haha)….
Am I still in love with her?
No. This is NOT a thing.
I AM NOT GAY.
(well aren’t you scared? Don’t you feel like you have a mask on for everyone?)
of COURSE I do!
And she was the ONLY one who I believe will
EVER get to see me with the mask off.
She loved me, you know.
She loved me, and I loved her with all my soul-
I feel like my soul has been razed to ash without
the presence of her.
If only….she was a guy.
And it felt more normal.
(And less wrong.)
And more, holy?
It felt like I was using her from the start-
I tried to tell her,
but she’d have none of it.
Uhm…..so now what do I do?
I’m thinking about her.
(always. Tbh, that never changes.)
And of course,
gravitating toward same-sex stories/fanfiction/books,
and trying to ignore the
terrifying adrenaline-pumping and dry mouth feeling that I get in
the pit of my stomach whenever
I try to objectively look
at myself like this.
What do I remember from her?
Fear. (SO MUCH fear.)
Guilt turning into sickness.
(Throw in a smattering of tears, sobbing,
whispered nothings, makeout sessions,
twisted desire, forcing myself to think a certain way to
be who she needed, and that
about sums up our relationship.)
I did the same to her.
Except I broke her heart,
in the end.
(God, she probably
What is WRONG with me?????????
(If only I could be normal, ya know?)
Where my dreams didn’t HAVE to turn into
same-sex desires because she always made it sound like
I had a choice when I was with her but really
her and I both knew that the only choice
was each other
And when I really wanted out,
I couldn’t go.
She wouldn’t let me.
She would cry
or get all,
and then I would have to keep
picking up her broken pieces.
It felt like death.
At first, I used her to make me
come to life,
to feel alive again.
But over time,
it just felt like dying.
And there was no way out.
I didn’t have a choice.)
I don’t know if she did…..I always tried to
make it seem like she never HAD
But hey, maybe I did.