By Hailey Forrester
I have a secret, maybe.
I have a confession, probably.
I have a love letter,
Definitely.
Dear you,
You beautiful wonderful amazing person you,
I think I love you.
Which, I mean, is strange, cause you’re a girl.
I mean, that isn’t strange, like I promise I’m not judgmental of that sort of thing
(This sort of thing?)
But I guess I am a little nervous
And THAT’S what’s strange
Cause I’ve never had a problem confessing my love before.
In kindergarten I had it all planned out—I was going to marry Charlie and Clara was going to marry David and Shashonna was going to marry Dylan and we were all going to live right next to each other.
And then in elementary school and middle school I left packets of chocolate in their cubbies and love notes in their lockers, wrote them emails with “Love, me” at the end and bashfully held hands, and finally, in high school I even sneaked my first kiss.
And so in spite of all of my vast hormonal experience,
It was an embarrassing amount of time later before I even realized that some of the girls holding hands in the hallways were more than just “best friends.”
So I have to wonder,
When I started noticing the curve of your smile, the curve of your lips
And the light in your eyes, and the way that you walk, and talk, and listen
And the warmth of your hug, a warmth I could sink into, breathe into, whisper into, turning my head just slightly to the right to position my lips right below your right ear…
(But I mean it’s always been a really platonic hug, like three-second maximum hug, really nothing to it, only extended if I’ve had a really bad day),
Why no one told me liking girls was okay.
How come I never noticed how much I think about you?
When did my body and my mind and my heart reach this conclusion?
Was I just not listening to them until now?
Where are the words that I need to tell you how I feel?
And if all else fails,
What can I do to make you believe I had a bad day?
Haley Forrester aspires to make art and theater and launch her work out into the world. She has fallen in love with many men, a few women, and the Pacific Northwest.