I would make a better boy
I am ovulating. I want to have sex. With various humans. I frequently fall in love with people and am in need of wooing them. I like to woo people. It rarely works, but it's poetic, right? and fun. And heartbreaking when it's met with a brick wall. Or worse yet, a reluctant rubber wall. I think I would make a better boy. When I was little I looked like Jasmine but I was always an Aladdin. I want to fly off of buildings and grab the hand of someone beautiful, "Do you trust me?" Of course you do. I would make a beautiful boy, maybe. A feminist boy. A writer boy living in an attic because of course I would have no arthrogryposis and stairs would be no problem and I would sweep girls off their feet. When I was thirteen I wanted to be fragile and exquisite and to have a boy warm my cold hands. But I like the action better. I hate waiting. I was never a lady in waiting of anything. I want to warm his hands. Boys are not easily wooed. They have a strange pride. I want to tuck a stray hair behind an ear and to swallow with my eyes. Maybe I am too dominant. I want to plunge. I want to fly.