That is something I know. I have known it since before I can remember. At least since I was five. Usually it doesn’t bother me. But I know it’s weird. I’ve never told anyone. And it kills me in relationships. It’s not why I end them. That’s a different weirdness entirely. But it makes things different. I listen to other people talk all about their endeavors, and I wonder why they’re so normal. And I think about the amount of people I now know with such varying sexualities, and even genders, and I wonder why this thing, that seems tiny in comparison, is so hard for me to mention.
Whilst I write this, I am chatting to Oli. And since typing that last paragraph, I have told him. Everything. And he took it surprisingly well. He has not been scared off. I feel refreshed and happy. I look forward to Tuesday.
I am like a child. The other day, I tried to write a poem the other day about all the things that are wrong with me. Of course, the poem failed, but I still had all the topics planned out for each verse. And the most normal one was the fact that I’m like a child. I fail at all these adult things. Picking up on stuff, knowing people, falling for people, figuring things out for myself… Ugh.
The guy I would like to flirt with me gives mixed signals. Very mixed signals. And then there’s this other guy who seems like he is flirting with me. And I’m just thinking to myself “please stop flirting with me, because I’d rather it came from the other guy”. But I keep talking, because I don’t want to seem rude. And so then I get paranoid that he thinks that my ordinary talking is me flirting with him. And then I get paranoid that the way he sees me is the same way I see the other guy. And then I feel sad.
As well as the childlike verse, there were also five other planned verses. One of them was about how I never seem to get sad about anything other than shallow problems like men. One of them was about how I’m so damned socially awkward and shy. Another one was partly to do with me being insecure, but also related to occasional conflicting feelings. Another related to my mind and love. The last, and weirdest verse, is a secret I shall never tell.