I’ve hated you for a while and I resent the words you spoke and the anger that flourished from me.
We dated. Or, you dated me. My skin was crawling with the urge to run away. But I didn’t want to disappoint my best friend.
I remember the day you told me I was “confused” and asked me if I was still sure about my own sexuality. I needed support. I needed you, my best friend.
Eventually, you made jokes at my expense. Humiliated me in front of your friends. and yet, acted shocked when I broke up with you. I deserved better.
That was five years ago, the insecurities and fear linger. I’ve never told another man about my sexuality, I’ve never dated again, and whenever I got close to someone, the urge to run away persists, like a chronic illness.
Then, he came along. My fears still persisted, but he stayed. I was terrified, but I told him I was bi, terrified of the pending criticism or questions. Instead, he said he was proud and that I was incredible
Two days ago, he said he liked me. His reasons? It wasn’t my looks. Not like yours. It was me. It was my personality, it was my intelligence, it was me.
But, you’ve ruined me. I feel the urge to run. To run from this incredible guy, who compares me to the stars that light the night sky. That compares me to foreign delicacies. And yet, I still want to run. Why?