“Gender is a Fuck.”
-- 20year old me.
Now I cross my legs,
Swirl and sip my tea.
I’m a cognative therapist
In that I only have a degree in my brain.
Across from me sits Bella Swan from twilight
Always that mouth ajar; the same, the same
Old love triangle that popularized monster romance
(A thing, when said allowed, sounds very strange).
“You’re a boring, straight white girl,”
I say to no response
“You’re so dependent you need no dialogue here.
“And girl, you’re in love with two abusers and neither are good. But I have no say in that, only Meyer.”
“Liar,” she mouth-breathes sardonically at me, “I’m my own person (but only when I feel like it. lol, xD, jk).”
“ okay. Feel like it now. I have an answer for this triangle—make it a hexagon, an octogon or quadralateral.
“Girl, you don’t have to abide by religion, when your seperate from your source. You're a character not a caracature or self-insert. Be poly, oh please
Spice your life up for me.
I’m dying here seeing you every day.
Maybe you can have some autonomy in your relationship and fuck both the guys that you insta-love.”
“Is being poly okay?”
“Who cares? Do you see any other way?
I see sexuality and gender as shape with no sides.”
And now I leave my office
Packed up, I go home
And bella crawls back into my netflix account
When I shut the door behind me, back at home and in bed,
I start counting endless numbers, endless sides.
It’ll take me a lifetime
And well beyond that
But its instinctual, I don’t know what to do.
Numbers are endless
And so are possibilities
And I wish I needed to live on blood.
Because an eternity would give me endless time to count
Endless time to figure myself out.
Because I explain it to others
But words cannot encapsilate
That sheer, sheer, abhorrent amount…
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