My eyes fall to the quote in her tattoo as she passes me by and I can't keep the compliment from slipping off my tongue because it's smart, and witty, and honest. And I know what she'll say, and I know what she'll think because this isn't my safe haven, this isn't my shell this is high school, and this is the girl who thinks she's so perfect that everyone wants her when really we all just want to get rid of her.

"Stop hitting on me!"

I stand in the girl's locker room and wait for my friend because God knows I have no intention of giving these girls another reason to call me out in the hall and laugh as they walk by, so I'll just go to gym in my normal clothes. Dressing down takes too long, anyway. I keep my eyes trained on the wall, a blush spreading up my cheeks because this is not the first place I hoped I would be in the middle of the day, surrounded by girls who have no respect for me or my identity as a human and not a label.

"Stop staring at me!"

I smile at a girl across the lunch room because she looks lonely, and sad, and no one should look so lonely and sad and maybe she would like a little company, because with my lack of it I could definitely use som as well. But she snears and turns her eyes away. Not one to give up so easily, and in desperate need of a new friend I stand from my seat and ask if the one beside her is taken. But when her eyes once again meet mine, I know exactly what comes next. Because I have Dyke cooties, and I want every girl I see...

"Stop trying to get in my pants!"

I stop in the hal to look closer at that girls shirt because the logo is cool, it makes sense and it speaks to me. But the moment I do, I know what will hapen. So I avert my eyes and drop them to her si inch heels complete with the glitter that makes her look more like a hooker than a 15-year-ld high school student. she pops her hip so far to the right I think it may go out of place just like I knew she would, she drops her hand to rest upon it just like I knew she would, she flicks her chin outward as if she wants to smack me in the face with it just like I knew she would, she pushes her hair over her shoulder as if she's the hottest piece of ass in this entire building just like I knew she would, and then she purses her lips in disgust because I'm so fucking queer it makes her sick...just like I knew she would. My eyes still on her shoes, expecting exactly what was coming, I heard the words that would change my confidence forever...

"I'm not checking you out!"

Having expected an entirely different set of words, I turned around and stormed off because I couldn't take any more. But as I stood in front of the door that would lead me into the school's GSA club, going over the events of the day, I realized those had been my words. I had spoken before she'd got a chance. I knew what this meant. It meant she would go from hating me because she thinks I want her to hating me because I clearly don't, and why isn't she good enough for a loveless dyke like me, and why doesn't anyone love her, and OMG she's just going to make my life a living hell the moment the teachers and staff have urned the other way.

But I didn't care. Because this is my body. And this is my life. And this is my choice, and I choose to stick my nose in the air and pretend your comments don't hurt because You're. Not. My. TYPE!