"LYK U"

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Liking a boy is embarrassing. 

You’re not sure if he really likes you even when he shows you that he really likes you. You don't know if he’s telling you the truth even though all he's ever shown you is something that resembles the truth. What? Is he gon’ disgrace me when we go to dinner too? Leave me at the table abruptly saying he has to go to the convenience for a little mid-dinner poo? I don't know if it's my insecurities speaking to me or just plain facts. 

See, I wanted to call it my past, but that ain't that. It's the customary weight of people’s tales, people’s fears, people's tears that I have to carry on my back. My mother, my sisters, my cousins, my friends… they've all got something to say. Like, “I thought he was the one, but I found out he was gay.” Like, “I thought he was the one, but he couldn't keep his penis to himself for a day, even worse when I was away.” “I thought he was the one, but he later left all the family bills for me to pay.” “I thought he was the one, but how do you go days without speaking to the one you claim to be your girl? What is this? Hell? Can't you tell by looking at me that liking a boy is likened to clinging onto wet eggshells even when you know they smell?” 

Liking a boy… 

My brain tells me no, but my heart… Fuck the bitch! She don't even know where to go. 

It's silent, creeps in on you when you're not skimming, makes you feel like leaving, yet staying seems very promising. It's dangerous, like climbing a cliff. Theatrical. But isn't that how feelings are? Isn't that the thing that leaves you static enough to flip your phone multiple times over, hoping for the “I’ll call you back right now” call, or a good morning text that, a lot of times, never arrives? Turns you into a person who flinches when the texts do come through, because is this ‘good morning, babes’ forever or just right now? And even though they don't keep to their promises as often as you'd like them to, your smile when you see them again, becomes evidence of how your heart flutters when you hear from them. 

When you're on set, you hold onto other people’s past experiences loosely, because, even though they had theirs as tightly, you hope yours should be a bit… different. Less difficult. Less uncertainty, more clarity. Like, knowing where he really is on a Friday night after he said he was going out with the boys. Like, comprehending you're not the game and he's not going to play with your heart like Disney toys, or your ex before. 

Liking a boy is embarrassing. 

It's like being forced to wrestle ghosts when all you want to feel is warmth. “I’m going through things…” Boy, aren't we all? But I like the way you speak. Soft, but sure. I like the way you smile, it's as amazing as when you call. And I know liking a boy makes me feel more like a fool, a child, a tool, but I like you, so what do I do?

BY PRECIOUS NELSON