The dalliance was dim and short lived.
What would one expect from a founding forged in mutual disdain?
I think maybe we merely hated the same people. No. We were hated by the same people. That’s even less of a connection.
We shared nothing beyond disinterests.
I wanted to care. I just couldn’t.
In theory her lips were inviting. (I mean, I had direct invitation.) It was momentum rather than passion that carried the kisses through. Did she care, though? Was there meaning outside the lens of my being? Does it matter now…?
Her dick was amazing, no doubt. Magnetic, really. In theory.
I mean, I mean. Goddamn. Maybe I am an asshole?
It seemed almost separate to her. Like, it was attached to her for sure, but with smooth heft of it, in my hand or my mouth, I didn’t have to remember that.
That wasn’t fair. Not to either of us. Just, ya know, we were all we had. Xtian school is tough, you guys.
We were both broken because we were taught to be broken.
We were both, uh, trying really hard to be open. I wanted to fall for her. I wanted to love her.
Of course, I never did.
She was she. I was gay.
We didn’t have the words to understand our failure.
I hope she doesn’t hate me. How could I blame her though? I mean, the whole thing was forged in the fires of hate all around us. Uh, what’s that word? Quenched! Forged in the hate of others and quenched in our own ignorance.
We never stood a chance.