"I like boys."

But I like your soft and feminine hands as they lightly tickle my spine and I love your smooth shirtless body laying on top of mine.

"I like boys."

But the taste of your glossed and pouty lips
and the feel of your thighs brushing the sides of my hips
will forever be my weaknesses.

"I like boys."

But I can't help but cry at the sound of your delicate voice when you sing sleepy and slurred lullabies
or your heart pounding along with your heavy breaths and sighs
and I can't keep my hands from grasping your every curve and limb.

"I like boys."*
But all I know is that I never felt any of this with him.

i want to be the person you run home to tell good news
i want to radiate constant sunshine and be warm
i want to be the counterpart to your sarcastic demeanor;
the one you can open up to and let me see you raw
i want to be a person who wakes up every morning happy to be alive
i want to be a writer
i want to be an artist
i want to save the world
i want to make a change

we have infinite potential lives
i can almost see how my life would play out with her
we would decide to hang out and watch mindless tv
shifting closer and closer to each other, side-eyeing when the other isn't watching; but we're both secretly watching each other instead of the show
i don't know how i'd bring it up that i'm into her, or even remotely have an idea on how i'd make a move
but in this infinite possibility world, i could figure it out
we'd keep it casual at first, just the occasional sleepover turned into a makeout session, then maybe further
we wouldn't tell our parents and the door would be closed
we'd probably tell our close friends, but not the whole school
we'd be lying in bed together one night at 3 am
when she'd ask me if i wanted to be something more, if i liked her that way
but how could i not?
she was special, passionate, always friendly always compassionate and this strange type of beauty that you just don't find down the street
i'd tell her of course, and maybe we'd tell more people and walk in public hand in hand
i can see it
i don't know if we would last
but i know i would cherish our time forever

i don't like the way my name sounds on my mother's lips
i grow quiet when my friends complain about their cheesy dads
sometimes i wonder what people would think or do if
i died or had a terminal illness
i feel uncomfortable when boys look at me
yet i crave the attention of everyone
i cry every night
and eat too much
and fall into self loathing when i look at the scale
i called a girl a ***** because my friend's boyfriend cheated with her
yet i had *** with a boy who had a girlfriend for over 2 years and showed my naked pictures to all of his friends
confession: i'm a hypocrite

settling down in the suburbs
a balding husband, 2 kids, a dog
an office job where i get paid less than the man doing the exact same job
never leaving; stuck.
i can't live that life. i think i would suffocate.
i want a life where everything is fresh, exciting
where i have things to look forward to and every day is a new adventure
maybe i'll be married, maybe i won't
a job where i can travel, see the world, learn new cultures
a job where i can be creative and feel empowered
i can paint the world, splash the globe with fiery reds and let every single person know
i am here
i will leave a mark
**i will not be forgotten

i think there is an importance to being earnest
i confess i've never read that book, but i still think the actual concept is great
to be honest, to love being around the people you're around and not being afraid or ashamed to freely admit it? that's love. that's earnestness.
when my heart swells up with happiness when my best friend and i make plans for the future, or tell stupid jokes to each other, and i think to myself how full and complete i feel? earnest.
i like making other people happy. i like telling people they look pretty or that they have incredible personalities. i don't lie to them, but i want to make them feel pretty
i like that i'm known as the earnest one, the sometimes clingy one
i like that i'm earnest