"LYK U"
Photo: Pinterest 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 famil...