Her lips quivered as she lay in her bed, waiting for sleep to haze over the thoughts that were thundering around in her head. She blinked and looked up to the darkness of the room. The shadow of car lights poured in from behind the window blinds, casting painted monsters on the walls. She quivered again. Why did things have to be the way they were? Why couldn't things go back to the way they were before? She blinked again. Her eyes ached. She needed to cry, but was not sure if she wanted to.

Should she be ashamed? Should she change? Has she changed? Should she be what they want her to be? Or should she stay strong, and keep being herself? Not only for herself, but for the others who are like her? The ones that need her? Did they look at her differently now? Now, that they know? Now that they know who she is; now that they know what she is? Should it make any difference? Does she have a disease? Did her genes do this to her, like the Christians say? Can she not be normal, just like everyone else?

She swallowed hard and let her breath fade from her chapped lips. She should have kept quiet. She should have kept it to herself because now everyone knows… People hate her because of it. People look at her differently because of it, even if they said they wouldn't. Even if they said they were her friends – they still do not like her because of who she is, what she is, and the label branded onto her backside.


How does that make her any different? How does that make her any more inhuman? Even if she had kept it to herself, it wouldn't change anything. It would not change the fact that she was attracted to both sexes; it wouldn't change the fact that she loved a GIRL; and it wouldn't have changed the fact that she loved her best friend, more than that friend could ever know.

Because people knew, does that mean she's a carrier of some kind of epidemic virus? Was she infected now? Was she contagious?

Her lips shivered again. She was tired now. She gave a sigh as the world fell into darkness, like the way she wanted it to. She closed her eyes and turned to her side, pulling her arms to her chest, dreaming of those fairy tale love stories where it all seemed customary.