The
thing about relationships, whether it's with French girls, American,
Japanese, or the great nation of the beer brew festival. Sometimes
you build an image in your head of someone you would like to know,
though from time to time those images in your mind can turn out to be
right. At other times they turn out differently in the real life and
be ... dog ugly. And yet when you stand by trying to comfort someone
as long as I have, there isn't anything turning back. Your heart is
to invested in their well-being your needs being trumped by the
desire for only them that you are willing to forgive a little bit of
homeliness.
And
yet there is a kind of inner beauty in masculine girls. One not often
seen by more shallow suitors, there is a heart of gold not often
given a chance. Sometimes they build trust issues with others,
finding images in people they hate. I know I was there once myself, I
would shamefully lump everyone who was blond under the same brush.
Yet now whenever I see a blond girl be beheaded, it weighs down on my
soul. It is this great indescribable feeling.
On
some level I find myself scared to lose Anna-Marie, and yet I write
my stories imagining some other kind of Anna-Marie. For a long time
this was why I tended to avoid dates, as I didn't trust whatever
girlfriend I would date that I still loved them no matter what, and
no matter what version of them I created in story in a book I would
love them more than the artificial life. And so I never chose to even
entertain crushes.
I
feared being alone.
And
yet now as I join hands with her at the local cart stop, I simply
think of all the thoughts I used to have imagining creepy men
admiring me as a bearded lady when I forgot to shave, with that Irish
red. And think...
I'd
rather live my life with her instead.
It's
my new life.
The
thing about the nature of my sexuality, I've always tended to prefer
girls from a long distance relationship.
This
was part of the reason I was initially reluctant to befriend
Anna-Marie. The thing about the word befriend, is all to often I
tended to confuse the words behead and befriend. Do to to the nature
of the relationship with my mother, and the fact that my
illustrations tended to involve girls in captivity or with their
necks on a headsman's block, the general association I made for
friendship with other girls tended to also include sex.
I
was beginning to draw those illustrations in a time I was beginning
to sexually develop. It wasn't like I wanted to actually behead them,
it was more a case of wanting to die with my beloved that was in a
case of strong denial for the longest time. And so most of my fear
for the longest time had been that they would assume I wanted to kill
them. When that wasn't the case at all. No at all.
I
wanted to die right beside them and never leave their side as I'm
caught by dream-scanners who are able to spot our locations, finding
out exactly where we live and our daily living habits. Things in the
town would be tailored for our least convenience. So the fact that
Anna-Marie would even consider giving me a chance was an idea I
wasn't completely used to. So when we went to shooting matches, and
then rode horses under flying cars, it made broaching any
conversation about sex a difficult topic to approach. Especially
knowing her parents were dead.
So
whenever I have thoughts of a warm embrace by a bad girl, my mind
immediately switches to them stabbing me with a knife, and then
licking the blood off my corpse.
And
for Anna-Marie, I wasn't sure if she'd die by my side.
And
yet, she was just so cute.
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