I've been listening to La Luna by Belinda Carlisle on repeat for days now. I guess there's nothing particularly odd about daydreaming to intimate love songs. But I feel as though the fantasies I imagine in my head aren't quite the ones the song intended to convey.
Sea salt hair, the sand kissed skin – I can see that.
The cobblestone pathways of small Mediterranean back alleys. Lover's fingers intertwine as they lead each other to the quiet seclusion where is it just them and the moonlight. - It's all clear in my mind.
I think the immersion falls flat when my fantasy involves two lovers who looked like the overgrown emos you see on your tiktok front page. Bright coloured hair, **** cuts, mullets, piercings, the My Chemical Romance t-shirt, cuffed jeans and scuffed up converse. A sense of ****** and binary ambiguity, I do not know who they are. But they're all I can think about.
Yeah, the immersion is definitely broken.
And I, am definitely gay.
G-A-Y. The word almost feels like a jumpscare every time it comes to the forefront of my mind.
So I keep repeating it over and over to try desensitise myself but it never works. The thought fills me with dread, an overwhelming sense of shame and fear. And yet, I still keep listening to that song.
I prefer to call myself Queer for a better term of use.
Queer with a Q that feels like a tender kiss when the word leaves your lips.
Whether I wanted it or not over the past year the walls of heteronormativity began to gradually shatter and I felt as though I was shattering along with it. To see the world through Queer-tinted lenses. It's a beautiful yet overwhelming experience.
To be free? Should feel liberating, but I just feel lost and exposed. A part of myself wishes I'd have had this realisation at 14, 15, 16 even. Anything but 24. I feel a sense of grief for all the life I have wasted, every date I've sat through with straight men who truly believed they were Guts from Berserk, yet their words dripped with the blatant misogyny they were trying so desperately to keep inside.
'Crazy ex girlfriend' I've been her, I've heard of her over 100 times. And yet all of these men are still hung up over her? I find it fascinating that they cant see it's inside themselves they need to look. I guess I still hold a sense of resentment for all the years I spent mothering men who wanted nothing but my body, when my body would recoil at the sight of theirs.
It's not that I'm not attracted to men. I am. In fact my preference is for masculinity, but the difference between masculinity and the standard straight man is stark.
The standard straight man takes: takes your body, takes your worth, your sanity, your words.
You are perceived but never seen.
There is a softness, a sense of humility within the Queer heart. A silent, unspoken acceptance for whoever you are. Some scream it loudly, for others it's just the small smiles exchanged between each other when you know you both feel comfortable in each others presence. Because you are seen and you are safe.
Safe. A word I am yearning for.
I've not felt it in years now.
Love, A word I am yearning for.
I've not felt it in years now either.
La Luna, whoever you may be. I'm excited to meet you one day.
~I remember when I met you
All the stars were hanging in mid-air
In those moments nothing mattered
But the way you caught me in your stare~
