this is the girl

does every other young adult lesbian or bisexual or whatever have a little memorial somewhere in their hearts to all the girls they loved (or almost loved or almost almost loved) when they were too young and repressed and afraid to do anything about it, a shrine to all the puppy loves and summer romances and first kisses they might have shared if it hadn’t been for the shame, the doubt, the self-hatred, the fear, a monument to all that could have been if they’d have had the courage or simply lived in another time and place where they could have tried, where they could have loved and been loved, or am i just uniquely nostalgic and lonely on this thursday night

getting that august feeling (things that have ended endlessly are ending again)