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hardlystraight: repeat of the waves from the mt fujiko painting (Default)
[personal profile] hardlystraight
 am i? no! no! i'm not in love i'm just ... i just really like them.  in between loving and liking.  eco-tone.

god, it started in year nine.  i was young and naive, and i didn't know what lay inside me.  fuck, i was young.  fourteen.

i remember it so vividly.  year nine geography, one day.  one damn day in geography - they were sitting half a dozen seats in front of me, and on my left.  they were smart, and quick to laugh, and, god, their smile was intoxicating.

i was fascinated.  what was this feeling?  i had thought that girls were pretty before - i understood attractiveness, but this was.  this was full blown attraction, mildly restrained out of my own ignorance.

i was f a s c i n a t e d.  i watched her, sometimes they caught me, and stared a bit too.  or rather, that was when i moved ahead.  semester two, they were four seats behind and on my left.  anytime they spoke, i twisted around to watch.  every time they laughed, i grinned uncontrollably.  fuck, i was gone even then.

year ten - i had come out as bisexual during the wane of two thousand and fourteen,  so i knew that i liked girls.  after i came to that revelation about myself,  mostly thanks to many of my own friends coming out, i realised.  i had a crush on them.

year ten swimming carnival.  god, i wanted to talk about them  their legs, their hair, their personality, their laugh.  i wanted.
i "let it slip" that i had a crush on someone.  oh, and they pounced on that.  took the bait.
"who is it, who is it?  if we guess, will you tell us we're right?" the guessed correctly.


l y c i a .

l y c i a .

lee-sha.  lei-sha.  what i'd give for them to be mine.

so it was pining.  pining throughout year ten; lycia was in my history, my science, my religion ... classes spent looking askance and wanting to run my fingers through their hair.

we talked.  sometimes.  every time, my heart jumped into my throat and choked me, i took rasping breaths to abate my trembling fingers.

then, year eleven.  we finally got split up.  our interests divided - i went to history and hospitality, they went to music and physics.  chem?  i'm not sure.

but english.  we're in english together.  right across from me, i can't help but see them whenever i look up.  sweet, sweet torture.  one hour a day, less than, to feel my heart pound against my rib cage when they so much as look at me.

i'm not in love.

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