Someone to love me

They tell me that I shouldn't feel the way I do. They tell me that if I had any social grace I would stop thinking of her so much. They tell me that it's wrong to love another woman. That I would be less of a threat in an all boys school, rather than the all girl's boarding school that I attend. But I don't pay any attention. I never do. They call themselves my friends. They tell that they tell me the things they do to protect me, because they care. But I question them sometimes. They call her a bitch, a tramp, a whore; I don't listen to them though. They don't know her, not the way I do.

She is a sight of pure beauty, a black and white photo, moving and living in a coloured world. A mixture of gothic horror and forbidden romance sparkles in her eyes. But they don’t see this radiance, they can’t see past their foolish stereotypes. They will never see her for who she is. They cannot see her for who she is.

I can’t help but stare at her now. She looks so calm and peaceful. She’s curled up in a large puffy chair in the corner of the living area of our dorm. The large volume of some horror book, a vampire novel I think, is propped up against her knees, but her full black skirt is long enough to cover all but her white feet. Her eyebrows are knitted together as a twist in the plot displeases her. Suddenly I hate the author for writing a story that upsets my black and white photo girl.

I love her more, probably, than even I know. Yet she will never love me as I love her. Not because she is straight, but because she is not. It is because she is who she is. I can see her shining black eyes pivot from the page and focus on a red haired girl a short way away from my love. I can see the way she looks at her. I can see the way her eyebrows return to their natural arch as she gazes upon this redhead. I know that this is the same look I get on my face when I gaze upon her.

One of my friends nudges me now. She warns me that if I don’t stop starring, my black and white photo girl will notice me. I don’t care though. I never have, I love her too much. I do hope that she gets together with this red haired girl. She won’t though. I know this girl. She’s spoken to me of a boy waiting for her at home. He would be there for her and when she leaves school when we graduate, he will marry her, and then we both will be left alone. I know I will never find anyone who I love as I love her, but, perhaps, I will find someone to love me.

The End