// demisexual // i stare at you and see nothing in your eyes as i hear all the chatter of “he’s so sexy” and “ugh, what i’d give...” coming from my friends, and i do not understand, perpetually confused as feelings of isolation creep in like a vine threatening to strangle me to death.
what the hell is wrong with me?
i can recognize beauty and wistfully sigh as i crush on people i barely know, but the thought of sex with them is enough to make me want to crawl into myself and weep because it reminds me that i am not like other people, even though i wish i was.
i think back to my only two hookups and wish that i hadn’t felt the need to conform, rebelling against my very essence, against something that i have known since i was young. but at the same time, i know that i needed to fuck up to come to terms with who i really am.
who the hell am i?
the first boy i truly fell for, deep as the darkest depths of the ocean, broke my heart. we only ever touched clothed shoulders and knees, but he turned on a light bulb that had never burned before inside of me.
holy shit, is this what normal people feel like?
BAM.
god gives life to sex.
the revelation is bittersweet, like a poisonous apple, because i now know that i am not entirely normal. i am other. i stare at my phone as my last hookup asks me if i want to meet again, and i know that i cannot say yes because i can no longer hide from myself. i am transformed, no longer masked by ignorance. i scroll through screens asking me, “do you want to fuck?” and all i want to do is SCREAM: what the hell is wrong with you?
what the hell is wrong with us all?
maybe i’ll never know.













