#pendazii

I am not bi, one of the tags: #straight 

I just needed to get some old things off of my chest from when I kind of thought I liked a girl and wanted to be in a relationship with her, but in actuality I was just confused and didn’t know what I was thinking. 

I know this for sure now and I’ve actually talked about this a little with my good friend (@domeh) about how I could never see myself in a relationship with a girl despite what I feel towards them. Also the piece was not about any friends that I’ve had out in the open (so if you’re reading it don’t assume it’s about you and feel awkward about it) ugh....

First there was sun and then, there she was. Standing in her ripped jeans and tank-top looking like a goddess. 

Her silhouette taking a minute to process on the dry grass beneath me. It made me feel itchy and uncomfortable, but she didn’t notice. Needing to remind myself that I don’t like girls. I can’t like girls.

Her...how could one describe how she made me feel?

Confused. 

There were the warm days when we’d skate and whisper into warm embraces in empty halls. Quiet walls and cracked doors, but then turning bitter into cold nights of crying and spinning rooms. Her cries for an explanation for the gift I could never give her. Calling me coward for my lack of effort for us to be together in this room. GUILT. Who was she to make me feel this way?

Did she understand I couldn’t go further? 

But what did she know when He was watching me so closely through the eyes of mother and father. Her smile, her touch, her laugh, were to remain hopelessly in this platonic void of our crumbling friendship. Could you understand the distance between us growing because I found myself falling? Bringing me down under and losing touch with who I am supposed to be.

Her bewitching eyes tempting me away from the laws of my home, my ways, my religion. 

I know that I can’t like girls. I was just confused because she made me feel happy and stupid and everything else unreasonable. With the way she kissed my face and rested her head against mine. The way she would call me at noon to let me know how much she hated work or how she would hold my hand because that’s what friends do. The way she’d joke about us moving in together after school and having a pet. I knew she liked girls.

I thought she knew I couldn’t...

She couldn’t have wanted me. Too fat and short. Too many spots. Too ugly, my goodness what a frog. But there she was, crying in that adorable yellow sweater on my computer screen. Angry and tense asking for an explanation. Why I couldn’t give her a chance to be more than friends. It was over for good this time before it could even begin and I was sorry. 

I am sorry.