looking in the mirror I see what the people see.
dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes,
white girl with an easy smile,
quick to laugh,
friendly and naive,
inexperienced and young,
What a load of crap.
I’d shatter that image in a heartbeat if it had no hold on me,
but it does,
it’s what hides what I fear the most.
what keeps on bubbling up when i get strange looks from things i’ve said.
I keep those mirror shards close to my vocal chords,
in fear of breaking the illusion.
my, “strange obsession with expressing myself” as my parents call it.
inside my body beside all the muscles and bones,
tendons and nerves,
skin and follicles,
are my true colors.
at my fingertips is the constant shaking and tremor everyone comments on.
yes it’s anxiety,
no, I won’t tell you why.
behind my eyes are the images and blurring movements of people passing.
I see beautiful girls,
I’m a teenager after all, obviously I have questions burning in my gut.
about my sexuality.
my heart is splintered.
I’m supposed to like guys right?
I look “straight” right?
sorry to disappoint.
I keep that part of me hidden.
who knew such a straight girl could be so confused?
the word that I never knew could be my description,
is now part of my identity.
B I S E X U A L
that makes me attracted to everyone right?
I’m a whore right?
I’ll do absolutely anything sexual right?
I'm just in a phase right?
I better not have some lesbian crush on you or else we’re not friends, right?
I need God right?
I’m WRONG inside right?
what if that’s what my closest friend said to me?
what if I had actually come out officially?
would anyone still love me?
would I still love me?
I want to scream.