E L L A
❧
I believe I didn't make a stupid decision letting King take me home.
He's a hilarious guy.
He made jokes the whole way to my home, and when we got there he did look a little uneasy.
But overall he made me feel comfortable.
I'm a little curious about him tho. Why would he ask me how people would be murdered, is he not scared to go to prison? Or was he just putting on a show to protect me?
I'll go with the second option.
I asked for his number like a dumbass, but he thinks I'm 17 so he told me he can't do that.
And laughed at my embarrassment!
I stayed up all night thinking about that and going over different scenarios in my head about what I should've asked or said.
And even though I told him my name he was calling me "Rose" all through the night.
Standing in front of my body mirror in the corner of my room I look at the revealing outfit my mom is forcing me to wear, and my scalp feels like tiny ants are crawling on it from how tight this damn ponytail is, "you look so beautiful," my brother mocks walking into my room.
He's mocking my mother when she makes me wear ridiculously short dresses and my hair up and straighten because 'it's what a woman is supposed to wear.'
My mom is like one of those Instagram mother that fetishize and sexualize black children. Imagine her shock when I came out with no hair until I was at least 4 and non-colored eyes- she has hazel eyes and lighter skin.
My dad is one of those white-washed Republican black men that believes everything he hears from his white friends.
Going around saying 'Trump2024'
I never believed in their mindsets, and I just need to save up a little more to leave.
I do like this dress she chose.
It's black and makes me look like I have boobs, so I don't mind the shortness of it, "the oldies are gonna be checking you out all night," my brother, Ezal, laughs and I look at him in the mirror with pressed lips and narrowed eyes.
My workouts have been paying off when it comes to my butt, but I barely have any boobs.
I laugh and turn around pushing his shoulder playfully, "mom still dresses me, and it's honestly embarrassing at how revealing she wants me to be," I sigh and sit down on my bed putting my black red bottom heels on.
My parents have these parties they're invited to all the time, we have someone new in the neighborhood that's throwing a party and we have to go. If I don't my parents will probably kick me out.
"She just wants you to have a sugar daddy," my brother giggles and sits next to me, fidgeting his necklace.
My brother, Ezal, is 2 years older than me. We've always been super close. He's taught me more than my homophobic parents have.
Ezal is gay, but he's been expressing to me he wants to transition.
He's okay with me calling him 'he' until he makes up his mind.
People say we could pass as twins because of his petite figure and feminine features. I love Ezal more than anything in this world, and I hate that he has to hide for our parents to love him.
"Maybe you should get you a sugar daddy," I nudge him and he dances in his spot, "maybe," he says raising an eyebrow and dragging the 'e' with a squeal.
