Just For One Second.
I don;t quite know how to write this, so I just want you to read this 1st. This happened on my way home Friday night.
Just For A Second.
I see you
Your arms and legs are crossed, To protect yourself from a world that has made you feel small.
They sneer at you, in packs. Like tanned hyenas. So grateful that you are the victim and not them.
The abused make the best abusers, they claw at you with their words, you stare away, you pretend you don’t care. Your back is straight.But your eyes are closed.
At Hyde Park Corner, they finally leave, full of themselves and their victory, finally you slump.You try to hide your face in your hair, but a single tear drops from your head and lands on your thigh.
I sit next to you, and take your hand
They’re gone now, i say. they are history and they don’t matter anymore. We are free of them and their smallness. Just for now, you’re accepted. So am I.
This is what life would be like, were it not for all the small people living in their tiny conceptions.
You hold my hand. We don’t say anything.
It’s South Kensington. I have to go, I point at the door, you shake your head.
And I’m gone. Just for a second, we fixed each other’s day.
That’s all we have
Just a second.
And tonight this happened:
You know, you really shouldn’t be so …open.
Your life. With the playmates and stuff, you’re freaking people out.
Yeah, mate..Look, you should worry about it.
Because people SAY tthings.’
Well, they;re not comfortable with your..sexuality.
Why am i supposed to care?
Because, people judge, you know?
But I don’t need people who don’t accept me for who i am, do I?
Well, it’s pretty obvious you’ll shag anything.
It is? Well, that’s bloody news to me.
‘..Is THAT what you think poly means?’
‘Won’t you, though?’
‘NO, man, look, I do have a crush on a lot of people, but, I’ve slept with very few of them.;
Just, you know, watch yerself?
From what? V.D?
‘Just watch yourself. people ae talking,,,
I left, i made a joke of it, but….
That broke my heart. I’m not really sure why, except it’s 2012. I live in London. I think we’re meant to not care who we’re shagging anymore, but maybe I’m stupid. Look, I;m a grim loner who doesn’t want you to know I really, fucking love people (Although the drunks shouting ‘Aren’t we all proud to be British? EH? EH?’ on the tube tonight are possibly a bit less loved.) and i want you moreover than anything to be happy. Reality is amazing and time is fleeting, so why not have as much fun as you can?
Yet, the idea that anyone would be uncomfortable would judge me on my lifestyle choices really threw me. 1st off, because I don’t really see why anyone would, well, care. I’m not an enlightened human being at all. I literally, as I write this eating pizza and drinking a cup of tea, could not care less who any of you are and aren’t shagging right now. As long as you’re happy, it’s none of my business and I’m not really sure why I’m supposed to have an opinion on it. Shag a man, a woman, a melon, Whatever.
And you know, I’m a bi-poly. I can do whatever I like. I don;t NEED to tell you I randomly snogged a guy in a failed attempt to try to get into G.A.Y. or that one of the hottest women on the planet is one of my Skype friends, it’s just that my life is a continuous source of wonder, shock and joy to me. I could just keep quiet about everything, except I don’t see why I should. Any problem you have with my choice of sexual partners is exactly that. Your problem.but I’m what used to called ornery’ I like you, but I’m old enough not to need people who don’t love me for who I am. I’ve been though enough that I don’t really need or, to be honest, trust many people anymore.
So, I guess I’m saying tonight, I had a real insight on what it’s like to be alienated for your desires, and it was horrible, and I want to believe that my offering my hand (virtual or otherwise.) is totally unnecessary, but I’ve got a sad feeling it isn’t. I get the idea some of you are living in shame, fear and self-loathing. I want to tell you to just run. Get away from the small-minded people who you’ll never be good enough for. But Christ, don’t do this on your own. Tweet me. And if not me, someone who accepts you for you are, not who they want you to be.
Look, I love you. Look after yourselves. And read this.
Our sentence is up.