Ljidol topic 1 (wrote this a couple years ago)
I kissed her.
I kissed her like I had always wanted to. I kissed her like we were the last two people on earth.
Well, that's not exactly true. Although I wish it was. I wish I had kissed her like that. I wish it had been something special, something meaningful, something I'd want to remember.
It was a kiss, that was all. A kiss like so many others had kissed her. My hair caressing her face. Our lips touching, parting, and then
And then she laughed.
She laughed in my face.
She laughed in my face like this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to her.
So many other people in the room, and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating and her laughing. Did someone tell a joke? Did something funny happen? Or was it me? Was I the funny thing that happened?
She laughed in my face.
What do you say to that? What do you do when the one you look up to, looks down on you? What do you do when the one who was supposed to understand this quest, this change. What do you do, when they don't?
Maybe such a thing as a kiss shouldn't be so meaningful. But it was. It shouldn't have been, but it was. It was to me.
No longer was I going to let societal rules of who I should or shouldn't be, control me. No longer was I going to let the cliche of girl kissing, keep me from partaking in it. No longer was I going to hold myself back from what I wanted. What I wanted was to feel free. What I wanted was to kiss with no expectation of something more. What I wanted was the feeling of soft skin and long hair. What I wanted was lipstick and mascara. What I wanted was to feel sexy and crazy, and lustful and loved.
And most of the time, that's exactly what I got.
But that one girl. That one I hadn't kissed yet. We had a long conversation that night, about my new out look on life. Not just on girl kissing, although I did mention that, but on so much more. Talking about having let go of the idea of having children. That after so many years of trying, of trying and failing, that I was done. I was just going to live my life for me and for no one else, just like her.
And I'd like to think that somewhere between that conversation where she understood and listened and was interested in me and my whole world, and the time I leaned ever so gently over to kiss her goodbye. I'd like to believe that in between those two moments she got so high that she didn't know what the hell I was doing, or what the hell she was doing. And I'd like to believe that she doesn't even remember me trying to kiss her.
Maybe it was me. Maybe the idea of me kissing her is comical. Maybe she is over that stage of her life, and I was just too focused on myself to see that.
I don't know.
What I do know is that only a few months later I was pregnant.
And seven years later here I am.
Still kissing girls.
Still kissing girls, and she's the only one who laughed at me.
But I suppose the point is, I didn't let it stop me. I didn't let her laughing, change my decision. I let myself continue to be the person I wanted to be. And somewhere in that journey, somewhere in letting go of rules and restraints. Somewhere in there, was a balance I was seeking but didn't know I was seeking.
And I hold that balance tight to my chest.
And I hope to never let it go.
I kissed her like I had always wanted to. I kissed her like we were the last two people on earth.
Well, that's not exactly true. Although I wish it was. I wish I had kissed her like that. I wish it had been something special, something meaningful, something I'd want to remember.
It was a kiss, that was all. A kiss like so many others had kissed her. My hair caressing her face. Our lips touching, parting, and then
And then she laughed.
She laughed in my face.
She laughed in my face like this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to her.
So many other people in the room, and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating and her laughing. Did someone tell a joke? Did something funny happen? Or was it me? Was I the funny thing that happened?
She laughed in my face.
What do you say to that? What do you do when the one you look up to, looks down on you? What do you do when the one who was supposed to understand this quest, this change. What do you do, when they don't?
Maybe such a thing as a kiss shouldn't be so meaningful. But it was. It shouldn't have been, but it was. It was to me.
No longer was I going to let societal rules of who I should or shouldn't be, control me. No longer was I going to let the cliche of girl kissing, keep me from partaking in it. No longer was I going to hold myself back from what I wanted. What I wanted was to feel free. What I wanted was to kiss with no expectation of something more. What I wanted was the feeling of soft skin and long hair. What I wanted was lipstick and mascara. What I wanted was to feel sexy and crazy, and lustful and loved.
And most of the time, that's exactly what I got.
But that one girl. That one I hadn't kissed yet. We had a long conversation that night, about my new out look on life. Not just on girl kissing, although I did mention that, but on so much more. Talking about having let go of the idea of having children. That after so many years of trying, of trying and failing, that I was done. I was just going to live my life for me and for no one else, just like her.
And I'd like to think that somewhere between that conversation where she understood and listened and was interested in me and my whole world, and the time I leaned ever so gently over to kiss her goodbye. I'd like to believe that in between those two moments she got so high that she didn't know what the hell I was doing, or what the hell she was doing. And I'd like to believe that she doesn't even remember me trying to kiss her.
Maybe it was me. Maybe the idea of me kissing her is comical. Maybe she is over that stage of her life, and I was just too focused on myself to see that.
I don't know.
What I do know is that only a few months later I was pregnant.
And seven years later here I am.
Still kissing girls.
Still kissing girls, and she's the only one who laughed at me.
But I suppose the point is, I didn't let it stop me. I didn't let her laughing, change my decision. I let myself continue to be the person I wanted to be. And somewhere in that journey, somewhere in letting go of rules and restraints. Somewhere in there, was a balance I was seeking but didn't know I was seeking.
And I hold that balance tight to my chest.
And I hope to never let it go.