it’s the chemicals

by spootasia tomoe

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yeah,

so,

I’ve got a problem

y’see…

he wants me

but I want her

and it’s all very complicated

so, I’ve decided

to give the whole thing up

and become an asexual

or a Tibetan monk

or something

like that

except, they have no hair

I think

so I guess I’ll pass on that Tibetan one

but, asexual, yeah.

that sounds about right

because,

I mean, seriously

how can I be who I am?

it’s not like I have a real choice-

chemicals people!

-you know, they end up

influencing you

like lawyers do

like parents

can’t really say

the same about hookers

except when they steal your wallet

or give you aids

-yes, I surmise that’s

pretty not fun-

but, yeah.

chemicals

they lord over us mightily

our height,

our weight

gender

orientation

think-rimmed, coke-bottle glasses

or high cheekbones and a coy smile

look, it’s not like I can change

because, right, the chemicals

went over that already

but how can you expect me

to have het pride when that’s

just, that’s just sort of…

gloating, you know?

marriage and all that and only

Massachusetts

Sweden

Canada?

anyway, it’s around three

but then how can I have gay pride when, well

when it’s only around three?

that’s not really acceptance

right there, no,

not really, so

what do you want me to do?

should I be bi?

well, I can’t

want me to just settle down

have 2.4 kids

maybe a dog

white picket fence

(I’d probably have to paint it blue

because monotony makes me dizzy

and I wheeze

and it’s just bad all over. hives, you see

same thing happens to me with wool

unless it’s 30. right, off-topic

I’ll stop now)

problem is, tried that

failed, won’t work.

remember the chemicals, friends,

the chemicals

and I’m not going to go out and try to

fix myself

because, look, I’m not broken, just

confused and needing to talk

and feeling a little used

and walked on

because everyone can whine at me

about their problems

(except the ones with problems

similar, which is just as bad,

really,

because what I’m lobbying for here is

openness

can’t happen without the ‘open’ part)

but I’ve got nobody

no one

because if I found someone

I’d get all sorts of trouble for it.

okay, so I’m obviously having trouble expressing

what I’m feeling here (I’m on Nyquil

at the moment here, common cold and all that fanfare.

this usually happens

occasionally hallucinations, I try to avoid those

potent stuff,

Nyquil,

like loneliness

makes you babble and sleep a lot

by which I mean ‘a space lot’

because apparently there’s a space in between

no one ever told me

that’s why spell check is god)

okay, so, right, the trouble

here’s my proposal

in analogous form

(you know what I mean,

the proposal as an analogy):

so, apparently, alcoholism and drug addictions

are more common among lesbians and gays

than in het couples

because of all the time

they spend repressing and drowning out

the urges and needs that love and attraction,

you all know what I mean here,

demand, numbing

the chemicals and trying

to squeeze themselves

into the nice little boxes society provides

and, shit, suddenly they find themselves in AA

and even though society

didn’t really say it was okay

they have to stop all the hiding

and denying

and shock everyone around them

maybe even themselves

(have an identity crisis at the same time,

you know,

if they’re up to it, because

obviously

it’s a choice

just like the fucking chemicals

that decide if we’re geniuses

or talking to invisible people in corners

(p.s.

that was sarcasm))

because they were headed towards death,

people,

and I’m here to tell you that’s not okay

so,

now what?

you still want me to get on a parade float

and take all that heat

and be beaten up in back alleys,

maybe raped by ruffians

(seriously, that plot device

is really over clichéd

in trashy romance novels.

so,

stop, authors.

stop.

it’s becoming a problem)

and be discriminated against

and all that? (and, sure,

discrimination happens all the time

with skin and gender

and age, whatnot, whatever

but if I can go with substance abuse

to hide it away-

if you give me that choice, say

it’s okay

you think I won’t take it?

get real

I’m a coward here.

pain scares me just as much

as it scares you)

right, well, I just don’t have the strength

that you demand

and detest,

so,

I guess I’ll just be alone

forever

it’s what the rest of you would want

yeah?