“Yes”, my girlfriend replies.
I know it. We want representation, which is often an expression of our own becoming. And your story, and my story needs to be told, but I wish for all of us we didn’t have a story like this to tell. That this hadn’t happened to us. I was bullied for being gay before I knew what gay mean’t. It used to mean happy, they love to say that. Why can’t it be both? Why do I have to be gay and sad? Gay and suppressed. Gay and that’s not her girlfriend, that’s her friend. Gay and she’s too pretty to be gay. Gay and are you sure it’s not a phase? Gay and which one of you is the man? Gay and you just haven’t found the right guy yet. Gay and isn’t everyone nowadays? Why can’t I be gay and nothing, or if anything- be gay and myself? I am not a soup can, yet you continue to label me and try to define my contents. Humans are not meant to be sorted, and simplified. I am more than who I love, but you are not able to see past that. You’ll only love thy neighbor, until we move in next door.
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