Non- Fiction
I live in a very conservative town where anything not red, white, or backing the blue might as well be pissing on the flag. It might sound dramatic, but it was true for at least a few years that any off-color behavior could justifiably be punished by children in red hats. This was the climate in which I realized that not only was same-sex attraction real, but that I was not immune. Again, I cannot stress enough how romance was not a factor here. I was simply obsessed with someone I had no intention of ever interacting with.
I don’t like to call myself obsessive. It paints an overly clinical picture most of the time, someone with something diagnosable. I also feel it kind of perpetuates a less than tasteful stereotype about teen girls. One that I embodied for a year with great shame. At the time I was coming down off the adolescent high of being a naturally gifted student and was finally coming to terms with the fact that I was not perpetually going to be the smartest in the room. It was a maelstrom of emotions that no coming-of-age movie has ever left unmentioned. I have never had a crush. Even to this day, I’ve never felt gushy, cute, squeal-worthy feelings for someone, but I did feel an intense amount of fondness for people in a way that made me think perhaps I could morph it into something romantic. This was not one of those times, but I think this might be worse.
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