There is of course, a sheltered spot between any rock and hard place, and for me, that spot was wherever my closest friends happened to be. The day after the phone call I pushed my problems deeper into my pocket, stuffing it full and wearing a pasted smile that brightened into genuine happiness as I saw Jake standing at the front door; fringe in his face, gaping grin and eyes twinkling with mischief.
We moved as one to my room where Jake threw himself comfortably onto the bed and reached for my magazine. My breath caught in my chest, but he thought nothing of the helpline page it was turned to and instead flipped straight to the quizzes. Sides aching with laughter we found out and reprimanded each other’s credentials as a best friend and my suitability as a boyfriend.
Flipping on the TV we settled down in front of ‘Why do fools fall in love’, a film describing the life of a singer and featuring Halle Berry in a supporting role. As we watched I began to feel slightly uncomfortable. I found my eyes drawn to Halle again and again, to the melted cinnamon of her skin, soft mouth and enigmatic eyes…my nails bit into my skin. ‘Shut up’ I told myself silently. ‘You just admire her is all, wish you looked like her. Nothing else. Keep your mouth shut. Look at Jake, he’s not staring at her like that, you just admire her. You are not a…’
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
Lesbian. The word touched the tip of my tongue and was hastily swallowed before it burst out of me. I held my head in my hands and tried to focus my thoughts. Think boys. Think normal. Please don’t let this be one more way I’m not normal… I stood up, rummaging in my chest of drawers, looking for something, anything to ease the pressure. My hands lit on the scissors and I lifted them out, trying them against my upper arm, seeing how they fit. A quick slash across, then another, another and another. Four slim lines of bubbling blood appeared as I watched, mesmerised, peaceful. Then the dripping began. “Shit!” I swore to myself, grasping for tissues, pressing a wad against the cuts until they were carefully clotted.
I sat for hours on the bed afterwards, fingering the searing pieces of my skin, wondering if I would ever be whole again.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter