Dear Belinda,
Everyone's mood matched the gloomy weather. The snow was now replaced by rain and nobody could be more aggravated by the chilly precipitation than me. I stopped complaining, however, when I saw that you were fretting.
Your fingernails tapped against the book in front of you rapidly and I only furrowed my eyebrows as you found an interesting spot on the table to look at.
When I asked you what was bothering you and you blurted out "How am I supposed to come out?", I was dumbfounded.
It was never really a thing of question for me. I just went about life liking girls. I wasn't exactly one to get asked out, nor did any of my friends meddle around in my love life and my parents just kinda took the hint. My sexuality just kind of existed, never to be questioned.
I knew I had to be careful about my answer because I could clearly see that this whole situation was eating at you. Like I said, my sexuality was never something that I or anyone else questioned, so I never technically came out.
I felt like your eyes were digging into my soul as I wracked my brain for some answer to comfort you. I could tell you were getting frustrated seeing me not able to give you a helpful answer to your taxing question, so you asked how I came out.
I told you that I didn't. It was just something that never ate at me like it was eating at you, so I just never came out.
Your frustrated demeanor didn't change whatsoever after I told you that. You simply laid your chin on the table and silently wrote in your notebook the whole period.
I wished that I could have given you a better answer, but I didn't know what else to say to you. I never went through the whole process. If I had, you would have received a better answer for me. Instead, I gave you a half-assed one that left you more confused than before.
Sincerely,
Delilah
As always, thoughts and comments are always accepted and make sure to vote if you liked this letter.
--TG123
YOU ARE READING
A Series of Letters to My Very Straight Crush
Historia Corta"You were drunk off of Hennessy, but I was drunk off of you." Delilah constantly carried around her notebook full of perforated pages, seemingly always writing in it. If you flipped through the 100-page, spiral notebook, you would be surprised to...
