Sophomore Year

Tue, 04/05/2016 - 03:52 -- FriendA

Sophomore year of high school. My first day of choir ever. I'm put into an alto section that was a little more than judgemental. One girl makes a comment on my purple hair.

My only solace was a red-haired beauty. She welcomed me, with open arms, into the unknown territory.

We spent our free time comparing our scars. We talked about my failed suicide attempt. We talked about her coming out, and my lack thereof.

I hadn't felt the need to. I had never met anyone who I thought was worth it. I thought that I could play straight, but that was before her.

She makes me want to tell everybody everything. She makes me want to tell my parents that their only daughter is never going to live up to their dreams.

But she, my red-haired beauty, doesn't care about me anymore.

She made me feel okay in that unfamiliar territory. She made me feel okay and then dropped out of my life.

The only thing I need in this life is somebody who makes me feel the way that my red-haired beauty did.

This poem is about: 
Me

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