I'm so, so happy.
I finished the poem I thought I'd lost to the abyss that is my bedroom.
It was so hard not to let it go on forever.
I cut it off at almost two pages.
There's just so much to say about him.
It's one of my portrait poems, for my series.
You can't put every detail in a portrait.
You have to try to show them through a selection.
So I didn't get to talk about bagels or noodles or the peach and grape flavored bottles of champagne we finished between us
or sharing cups and plates
or rolling around on the carpet laughing
while other party-goers step over us and give us weird looks
or laughing at Chelsea Lately together,
or him talking to his mother in Portuguese on skype
or a million other lovely things.
I want to take a nap in his redeeming features.
Today in psychology we were talking about sexual orientation. Ms. McDevitt, aka Ms. Canklebitch, mentioned this recent study that suggested that guys can't be bisexual, but girls can be. My heart sank. If that's true, then he's probably gay, and he will never love me. Not like I want him to.
Red lipstick is empowering in a way. I liked wearing it to school today. On days other than those in spirit week, I probably wouldn't dare.
Maybe I should dare more.
Hmm.
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