The streetlights pass by
Faster than my eyes can see
My eyes are blurred right now
With tears falling
Because I'm driving
Away from you
Leaving you
In the distance
With only
The memory
Of your kiss

When my mom first thought that I was gay,
She and my father sat me down at the kitchen table.

I was fifteen and thought I was in love,
And all they could do was scream at me...

‘You’re a sin; what you feel isn’t natural.’
‘Where did we go wrong?’

And all I had wanted was to love in peace.
But apparently, that was too much to ask from them.

So I stifled myself.

I cut myself off from her and let us wither
Until there was nothing left of us because
I wasn't normal
And I was fifteen
And all I wanted was my mother’s approval
And how could I gain that if I wasn’t normal?

And then I was sixteen and I thought I was in love again
But this time with a seventeen-year-old boy
That knew nothing of love
And everything of sharp edges and even sharper words
But he spoke so pretty to me,
And how could I resist?

But he hurt me worse than anyone else that I’ve known
And he never even cared…

And then I was seventeen.

I was seventeen and my best friend had this mane
Of beautiful hair and I called her lovely and wife
And all the other silly little pet names that high school girls do
But little did she know that her smile
Lit fireworks inside my brain and the swarms of
Butterflies that beat in my chest rivalled that of a drum.

I thought she was beautiful.
I saw the universe in her.

But how could I admit that to myself without admitting it to
My mother, the one person whose validation I crave like
Air and water and life itself?

How could I admit to her that I wasn’t
Her little girl anymore?
That I was a disappointment?

And then I was eighteen.

I was eighteen and numb and not looking for anything when he found me...
I was eighteen and I thought that surely,
Surely
This was it, this was the feeling that I was waiting for.

But it wasn’t and I was eighteen and alone again
But this hurt worse than the others and then I was gone after that summer.

Now, I’m almost nineteen.

I’m almost nineteen and I’ve accepted the fact that
I will disappoint my mother;
The one whose opinion that I value the most;
The one that gave birth to me;
The only one that can tear me down until I feel like nothing.

But she’s my mother so how could I let her go
When she was there for my first word and my first steps
And every one of my other firsts.

My first date.

My first dance.

My first breakup.

She was there when I left for college, and she’ll be there when (if)
I get married.

Because regardless of my choices,
She loves me, and she always will.

And even if I can’t bring my partner home,
I will love her all the same.

So mom, if you see this,
I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted.
I’m sorry that I disappointed you.

But I’m not sorry for being who I am.

I’m not sorry for thinking women are beautiful
And men are handsome
Because all the world needs is a little bit more love,
And who am I to deprive it of that?

I  fell with the most unexpected person
I was in awe by the thought of her
I felt giddy and my inner child was giggling
There were freaking dinosaurs in my stomach doing somersaults
Is this what it feels like to be in love and be loved? If not, then I don't want this to end.

I wish people could understand
That sometimes things don't go as planned
And that I'll always try to hide
The things I feel deep down inside

I wish people could understand
That's sometimes being true is hard
That sticking to the rules is bland
So let this all become freehand

I wish they know
That it's possible to
Like boys and girls
And still be you

To be bi in a world
Where straight is the norm
To be wild and untamed
When people conform

That it's possible to
Be 'smart' and suicidal
That comfort doesn't make one
Want to keep their vitals

That just because I smile
Doesn't mean it's all fine
That I can hate my life
And still act in line

So please understand
Don't judge, don't sigh
I want you to know
That I really try
To be normal and stuff
To not scream and cry
To act like I'm still
A really good child

But before you judge
Keep this in mind
I'll keep killing myself
Until everyone thinks I'm fine

Sheathed in golden mist,
mysterious and alluring.