I knew what he was saying before he said it. I hoped that if I played stupid then he would give up asking. I hoped that there was hope for our friendship. I was wrong.
“What’s wrong?” He asked a smile on his face, his knee close to mine.
We were close, I could trust him. “Well, there’s this… person, that I have deep feelings for,” I said, not really knowing how to make the words sounds right.
He nodded, smiling wider.
“And,” I continued, “They really understand me. They can see beyond what’s on the surface.”
His leg touched mine. I jumped up and changed seats so I was sitting in front of him.
“But, this particular person…” I looked at him. His features so familiar, I can trust him and he is my friend. So I let my heart free, and the words just started flowing. “I get so lonely and desperate. I want someone, anyone to see me instead of just looking. I can’t tell if my feelings for her are real, or if I’m just searching for a love that doesn’t exist. I feel like I'll never find that love. I want these feelings for her to be real, but I don’t want to hurt her if they’re not.” Oh God, that whole rant made so much more sense in my head. It sounded like my words were tripping over each other as they spilled out of my mouth.
“I love you though, isn’t that enough?” So I guess he comprehended that in the slightest.
“You know I need a different kind of love.” I sighed. Guys just don’t understand.
“I do know what you mean, and I do love you like that.”
“You always have other choices,” he said, a slight trace of his smile still visible.
“What are you talking about?!” I was outraged. How dare he do this to me? Somehow, my legs had worked so I was standing up, backing away from the picnic table.
“Well it’s quite obvious that I like you, and you’re bi, so it’s okay.” He was smiling again.
I felt the grass in-between my toes as I kept walking further, further away.
Please stop talking now, tell me it’s a joke. Laugh about this all. Please.
“I’m not bi,” was all I could manage.
“So you’re straight? That works too.” His smile was huge, disgusting, and devious.
I was so angry. I found my voice again. “I’m gay. I told you before. When you asked me on that stupid date? I TOLD YOU. I am a lesbian, homosexual, a dyke, what is there not to get about that?” I stopped walking backwards. Now I was digging my bare feet into the earth, my fingernails digging into my palms.
“Wait… you… I thought you were… joking…” His body went limp. Eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted in disbelief.
At first I wanted to yell, and then I decided I would keep it all bottled up as usual, just to make him feel guiltier. “Why the fuck would I joke about that.” Those were my final words to him, a statement, not a question. Then I turned on my heel and ran.
I ran all the way off the high school campus, past the gardens and mismatched tables. Past the classroom where my shoes lay in a heap along with various used books and almost dried up pens. I ran all the way past the track field where people called to me. I ran past girls that snickered and whispered behind their hands. I ran all the way into the woods.
My calves were getting cut all over from broken branches and I could hear the pitter-patter of my feet, and the snap of twigs, the crunch of leaves.
I will not cry.
I trusted him.
I sat on the forest floor and stared at the sky. I turned up my imaginary music and blocked the world out. I’m sick and tired of being invisible.