If I’m bi why can’t I just marry a man? 
I don’t just exist in the spaces in-between 
I make the in-between take up space.
My first crushes were an elf with a bow and young Leo. 
I was so sure of my feelings and also not sure at all. 
After all, I was a uniform school girl who loved RENT.
I wanted a boy because I wanted a boy to want me.
Other girls made me nervous, especially the pretty ones. 
They started to wear makeup. I wanted to be one of them. 
And for them to see me, but what if they did?
Just a little mascara for me.
I went to bat mitzvahs at 13 hoping boys would grind on me from behind. 
I’d ask my friend if he was cute that that was good enough.
One randomly looked under my skirt and I was thrilled. 
It happened years later on the subway too. 
I had a passing thought that being bi would make sense, if only I liked women.
I fell in love with two men, and then myself. 
And now, her breasts are home. 
**

I know that I’m bi but I still try to put myself in a box. I’m not used to taking up space so audaciously, But I do so just by breathing as bi. “Bisexual women and their boyfriends.” It’s not funny. It’s punching down. There’s no bi flag emoji. Just a wave of blue, purple and pink dispersed into the margins. Absorbed into nothing and then called “greedy.” Staying committed to bisexuality feels like a radical act. Sitting in the maybe and in-between and both. A test without answers. A tune without resolution that still makes the most beautiful sound. Lemon bars and cuffed jeans because having “things” feels nice. The bisexual community slips through my fingers every time I try to touch it. Magnets that repel each other in favor of picking a side of the fence. If I claim the label lesbian now, does that erase the men who had and shaped my heart? I want the moon to be ours. I know that I’m bi but I love a man’s hug but I love a woman’s touch. I don’t know how ending up with one won’t split me in two.

I lay in the sun and I can hear the music in my head. The violin, the piano. The music of my future. It swells and I breathe in, feeling the desire for greatness grow in my soul. To be known, is yo be remembered, and my memory will last long after my death. The history books will know my name, will know my songs. I won’t be matched; I will grow and climb and play my way to the top, ambition in hand and a hunger in my chest. I will be famous. I will be _extraordinary. _

"Tell me something about yourself."

What is there to say?

I'm a blank slate.

Paint me the colors you wish me to be.

I'm a ball of clay.

Mold me into the shape you desire.

Give me a purpose, for I don't have one of my own.

Tell me something about myself.

My mother taught me how to tie my shoes one day, We were at the park, the bench cold beneath us— Winter made itself known, the leaves were brittle, dead.

She said to me, “You’ve fallen one too many times,” And as she laced the last shoe, whispered, “No one will always be there to help you.”

So that was the last day she helped me up, Dusted off my jeans. For years, I remembered to tie my shoes, Tight, firm— So I wouldn’t trip, So I wouldn’t fall. Because no one could help me, No one could save me.

Much later, sitting on that same bench, Summer had bleached the sky to white, And I had realized that I was terribly alone.

Watching the birds flutter like thoughts, Bugs crawl with destination, I stayed for hours, watching flowers grow slow, beautifully.

My shoes had always stayed tied. And I watched, and I watched.

What if I fell? What if I did? What if I didn’t need to be saved?

I untied my shoes that day, Stood, then ran— Ran endlessly, shoes untied. And I didn’t fall. But if I did, I would just get back up, Just get back up and run again. Because what is life if you don’t? If you don’t fall?

How will you learn that it’s okay— To fall, to even stay down for a while, To not need anyone to save you, To be a person, To exist, Very slowly, Very, Very slowly, But to exist.

I h a d a n e p i p h a n y I realized who I am and why I’m so quiet I h a d a n e p i p h a n y I woke up and heard the shouts and the violence I h a d a n e p i p h a n y I opened my eyes to see I was a nihilist I h a d a n e p i p h a n y I understood why everyone’s lives are like this I h a d a n e p i p h a n y But when will the world Have one too?

I sit in bed, yet his words won't leave my mind:

"God's not real."

I flip through my bible, desperate to find a passage to distract me.

It's not like I haven't had that thought try to force its way into my mind before.

But as I look to my favorite verses, I realize how contradicting this stupid book is.

How many verses have rules my church ignores.

"God's not real."

But if he's not, what purpose do I serve?

If there's no god to worship, then that means I am just one person out of 8 billion others.

I mean nothing in the great scheme of things.

There are no hands to catch me if I trust-fall backwards.

This book in my hands no longer feels comforting.

No longer do I wish to read it nightly.

What is the meaning of life, if not to worship a god that may not even be listening?

Tw: mentions of sh ——————

I did it again, I overreacted To something only so small So small that whatever it was Is hard to recall

I feel like a horrible person I don’t know why it made me feel that way And after all this time My streak broke today

I can’t tell who I am I promise I’ve tried Whether I am me Or the monster inside

I can’t seem to breathe The tears covering my face My ability to keep going is gone And I have no energy to give chase

My nails dig into my arm Pulling and starting to scratch Trying to dig the monster out of me It’s my life it’s tried to snatch

I can’t feel a thing Even though my arm is raw red So is the monster gone Or is it hanging by a thread

And I soon give up Leaving the monster be If it’s really gone Then it won’t hurt me

It was all an overreaction The way it made me feel Was completely irrational I don’t even know if the monster is real

It could just be me

What’s my purpose? Am I meant to work in a circus? Or am I meant to be worthless? Do I have A purpose? I’m in the furnace. The searing heat is too much to bare. I’m in despair. I’m a raven. I am a horrible creation.

What am I meant to do on this earth? Am I on the right path? Will it matter? Does what I do now matter? Questions fill my mind Cloud my thoughts, affect my actions Can I make it? Am I good enough?

I hear disbelief Whispers About me Wondering what I am thinking How I think I can accomplish it Are they coming from others? Or from the voices in my head?

Author’s Note : Life is good right now! I’ve had a rough year, but I’m moving on and am feeling better than I’ve felt in a long time. I hope I didn’t worry you guys, because I got the help that I needed and am thriving! Take care, you guys are the best ☺️

I don’t belong to anyone accept myself, So how I find happiness, Is up to no one but me. I don’t have to prove myself to the people around me. I don’t have to take all my expectations to the extreme. I spent time away, And I needed that time away. It’s nothing to feel guilty for. And if there’s something I want, I can do it. I don’t have to regret not having made the choice yet, When I was doing other things that made me happy. Isn’t satisfaction the goal? I can’t just live my life one way or the other. I can live in between. I can have it all, All that is within reason. And within the confines of mortality, I can create something that will supersede me. Joy. And happiness. And love. And kindness. And my words shall ripple into infinity.