Untitled Document

Untitled Part Nine - Mason

https://youtu.be/PNKxAWiu4Fc

Before the sun rises the next morning, I'm up and sitting outside the town's library, still having been connected to their internet from yesterday. It's chilly out and I wrap Anita's jacket tighter around me as I scroll reddit, sniffling from the cold. I see my breath come before me in puffs of fog. My earbuds play a soothing melody I hum along to quietly, tapping my foot against the pavement.

    If I could I'd sit on these steps forever, reading, learning about a world of people I didn't know existed, I would. There are people with stories just like mine. I learn that there's a whole spectrum of possibilities I could fall under, and that people use labels differently, not everyone falls only into one spectrum. Some people will indulge in activities because they enjoy it, not because they feel anything towards it. Some do it for their partner. Some don't do it all, completely uninterested in the idea of any of it. And still, there isn't as much representation, good representation, compared to other sexualities.

    I didn't realize there are so many people out there feeling the same way. I thought I was odd. I thought I was alone.

    People talk about trying to force themselves to love because they thought that's what they had to do.

    It all sounds so familiar.

    I shut off my phone and push off the steps, starting off into the street lost in thought.

    But I do love Anita, right? I've known her forever, and I want our relationship to be real. She makes me happy. She's funny, and kind. She treats me nicely, makes sure I'm okay. She's someone I would spend my life with. That's what people look for in relationships. I think.

    My hair blows into my eyes and when I push it away I catch my reflection in the mirror, bags under my eyes, red nose, hair rustled from the wind, jacket pulled tightly around my chest, hugging myself.

    I don't look very happy.

    Suddenly, I become very frustrated. Turning from my reflection and storming away. If I could just get over myself and realize I'm pansexual I'd feel better. Pansexual people don't have a preference over who they date, so that must be me.

    It would just make life easier for everyone if I could realize this because then I'd be normal, and then I could be happy.

~

    When I pull into camp an hour later it's still ghost town, except for one figure sitting on a rock ledge, their features silhouetted by the sun.

    I approach them quietly, wishing to not startle them from their thoughts and freeze when I hear a tune being carried in by the lake's breeze. It's a gentle sound, barely audible in the cool morning air. I inch forward to hear more, ducking by the picnic table to listen.

    My skin prickles, putting a name to the voice.

    Anita.

    The song she hums along to is lost to me, but the memories aren't.

2019 -

The pen doesn't stutter on my arm as Anita draws along the length of it. She hums to herself as she goes.

We're positioned in a funny way. Anita's knee pressed into my thigh, my leg draped over hers. She leans over my arm and her chest brushes my arm when she moves. Occasionally I notice Anita's gaze flicking up to watch me from the corner of her eye.

    I always liked Anita's room, there's something freeing about it. Maybe it's the drawings covering her white walls, or the low buzz of music that never seems to be paused, the way light spills across the floors and over her paint and ink stained sheet. Regardless, the setting is calm enough to force my eyes into a flutter, dangerously close to sleep.