Right Justified

Best Friend Zoned

I don’t often take interest in guys, or at least rarely past the superficial aesthetics or casual conversations. So, when I do it’s an odd feeling.

Sadly, the rare times I favour my heart over my mind, I am faced with a dreadful reality. I for one reason or another, make a great friend, even a best friend. As much as I am honoured by such status, a part of me is selfishly saddened. 

I hate to rant like teenage girl with layers upon layers of insecurities, but I truly question my potential as a partner. I wonder if there will ever come a time when I can serve as more than a friend. I long for the day to be desired as more than a pillar of support.

Ultimately, its a matter of reciprocation. After all, it is the foundation to a healthy relationship, along with communication of course. Maybe one day, I can be a best friend to someone who wants to be mine in return. For now, I’ll take comfort in knowing that I can be of value to others.

Hey, I only need to find prince charming once in my life time, right? 

Silenced

Like a piece of lifeless meat, my mom threw the truth about my sexual identity in a cage of ruthless animals, also known as my family. With it, went my right of self expression, my voice of truth and reasoning, as well as my life long effort to sustain self confidence.

Without my discretion, I was offered as a juicy meal to feed a village and their longing hunger for ignorance and superiority. Together, they gnaw on my self worth and dignity, and will continue to until they pierce through my bone - my very core.

Though I have been comfortable with my sexual identity for quite some time, I did not appreciate being spoken about as some sort of hot topic gossip of a distant stranger. I especially did not appreciate knowing that it was perpetuated by my own family members, the ones who claim to care for my best interest.

Now that the news is out, it is there to be taken without discretion. Off they go with their long ingrained biases to make sense  of my being. Without me they expect to just get me. I am fearful of how they choose to interpret this information without context or precursors. It saddens me that in one conversation, I was defined and silenced.

No matter who it may be, all I ask is the opportunity to participate in the discussion. Now, rather than actively directing conversation about my sexuality in a positive light, debunking myths and providing rational explanations to offset misconceptions, I am left to simply clean up the mess. I now am forced to remain silent, sit there obediently to accept their persecution and hurtful words and opinions. Then and only then, after the dust settles from the cross fire that drains my life giving blood, will I be able to express myself.

Even still, my words are skewed as a response rather than a stance. Forever will I be responding and never will I truly be speaking.