Yet, tonight, as my time in the city comes to a close, I didn’t feel jealousy. I sort of felt nothing.
It is a feeling in your chest, or in your stomach, or in your head, or sometimes even in your heart.
It gives you a charge, a feeling of precariousness, something to look forward to. And when you’re immature and physically attracted to the person, there is no more potent a recipe for desire.
Everything that had happened in our lives came with an important decision. This decision enabled us to be where we are right now.
Some days I don’t know anything. What keeps me going is being useful.
But even when I was a kid, I knew that the person you end up with should be on par with your best friend. You’re gonna have to hang out with them forever, right? They better be cool.
Parents don’t want their kids to lead a hard life. And being gay is still considered difficult no matter how many rappers come out of the closet and movie stars thank their partners in acceptance speeches. It’s always going to be the less desirable road to take until everyone agrees that it’s not.
Doesn’t in focus just mean something else must be out of focus? Where is the horizon?
We’ve hung out a grand total of five times, only one of which ended in casual second base, and every time he leaves, I’m like “He’s so lame! Now I must text him immediately to tell him what a great time I had!”
The second I heard the song “You Oughta Know,” I threw out my Legos (Who are we kidding? My Barbie dolls…) and started writing angry letters to made-up evil lovers in my composition notebook.