I think of me, and love, and wonder what I’m like on it. Is it some sort of virus that transfuses your skin and changes your body odor? Do you squint your eyes less often? Will I finally be able to appreciate hugs? Will I finally enjoy the human touch?

The only time I can remember is making out with my ex, and that was… what one, two times? I don’t remember. It was amazing. People say sex is heaven–making out is pretty good, too. When you really love someone. It’s amazing.

I’m bisexual though my parents, whom I live with (garble garble -__-) are conservative and ideological enough in that conservativism (though in fact liberals on the whole) that they express negative sentiment towards homos and the like. Mom wouldn’t want me to be gay because she knows you face discrimination. But, alas, she doesn’t know there’s really no choice. Father has been downright homophobic before… but it seems he’s changed. I would wager he has.

All this, to express myself. It would be nice to just be me for once. Not the clothes I put on imported from some warehouse store, not the haircut I got dictated by a barber (or during this the quarantine, a family member), not even my body. I don’t know. I’ve never gotten that much Me in my life.

Work events are calling, but I have a few minutes left.

I like this fantasy world, of knowing someone, and loving them, in my mind. But that, there’s no real surprise. The risk comes from making it real. And… I think I want that. I want it.

I’ve asked my male best friend if he wanted to date, he said no. Eh. I don’t know that many people period so it’s not like I have many options.

So finding you, here, now, struggling like this, on the verge of leaving me… I have to do everything in my power to stop it, but I feel so powerless since we are, after all, so separated, geographically and otherwise…

There are shockers I imagine that could ruin my love. An age gap too large would be a wakeup-call. I don’t know. Possibly other things.

But for now I’ll dream in ideals and perfections.

And now, back to the bitches at work.

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