|dear friend, |
i was x years old, the first time i had a crush on a girl; & i didn’t have a name for it. she had this gorgeous haircut, & i used to be entranced with the way she would move when she performed her pirouettes.
i was xiv, the second time i met a girl i couldn’t stop thinking about. she was xvii, a poet, & someone galaxies out of my league— & hence, she fit my type perfectly. i only realised that what i felt for her was more than an infatuation, admiration, a “friend-crush”; when she once told me that she would never date me because i was far too younger than her.
i was xv, when i finally got a name for it: a friend of mine hit on her, & i had this fiery pit in my gut, this burning sensation crawling down my throat, my body wracked with anxious shivers— i was jealous. i was so jealous.
the first time i realised that this name has a label, a history, a voice, a face— i was xvi, swamped with grade x final exams, & binge watching pretty little liars. Emily Fields was a revelation.
i was xvii when i first fell for this girl — xvii, not a poet, not single, still galaxies out of my league — & i had a name for it. i was xviii when i first dared to tell my best friend that this name means something to me. i was shivering, heart already prepping for take-off, & me yearning for some semblance of belonging, of home— & they came through. i’m so fortunate that they came through.
2019 has been gentle-hopeful-devastating in turns; & i couldn’t be more at peace with it. this June, i’m proud to say that i don’t know where exactly i fall on the sexuality spectrum — straight, bi-sexual, gay, pansexual, asexual, etc., etc, — but, i’m okay with it.
happy pride, dear one. i hope you find what you’re looking for.