spoken word. (gxg)

five.

five.

I liked mornings. Mornings were quiet, peaceful, a time when you could look out the window and see all the poofy dogs walk by. For some reason, 5 am was a favored time in my neighborhood for dog walkers.

This morning, especially, I was excited. I woke up on Charlotte's couch to a bright smile and a plate full of eggs. I couldn't help but grin back, sitting up clumsily and feeling the pillow I had been using fall to the floor. I had made up my mind last night.

I was going to befriend June Willow.

The thought was terrifying, but, for some reason, made me smile. She didn't seem to be as scary as everyone said. If she was, she wouldn't have let me read to her like a little kid for hours and hours.

That's what was on my mind at 7 am on my way to school. Honestly, though, I didn't know what to expect, or how to go about making friends with quite possibly the most intimidating and closed-off person at school. Many people tried, in fact. Every second of the day June could be seen surrounded by hopeful students. It wasn't a surprise-- she was cool. Like, really cool. And gorgeous.

I cut the thought from my mind before it had the chance to fester. Nope, we are not going to think about how attractive June Willow is. Especially since she's definitely straight. Straight girls were a big no-no.

I had dated a couple of times before, but it had never lasted more than a few weeks. I was elated the first time I got a girlfriend-- we were hiking, and she suddenly turned to me, face red.

"I really like you," her voice was wavering, nervous. My cheeks flushed, breaking out in an uncontrollable grin. A smile instantly broke out on her own face. "Do you want to go on a date, maybe?"

"Yes," I said, my chest feeling about to burst. She must have been feeling the same way because she put a shaking hand up to her heart.

"I'm so happy," she said, elated, "ah, I wasn't expecting this to go so well." I felt the same way. It was an uncontrollable happiness.

A few weeks later, I broke it off. She was distant, not responding to my messages or speaking in more than an 'okay' or 'yeah.' She cried, apologizing over and over. A few days later, I texted her, regretting the breakup. I didn't love her-- we hadn't been dating long enough for that-- but the feelings I had were strong and I wanted to fix what we had.

That's when I discovered that she had been talking to another man while we were dating. It's why she had been acting the way she had-- she felt guilty, torn. Eventually, she had decided to choose me, break it off with him, but when I broke up with her things changed. She rebounded.

There was no room in her life for me anymore. I was crushed about it for months. I felt inferior, inadequate because I wasn't male. It didn't help that, the next year, my new girlfriend chose to cheat and leave me for a man. In the back of my brain, I wondered if a girl could ever love me as much as they might a man. I scolded myself. Of course they existed, women who preferred girls over boys.

Still, the thought persisted, only festering as I witnessed the people around me enjoying long-lasting straight relationships. Sometimes I wondered if there was something wrong with me, if I should be attracted to men as well. Once, I even convinced myself that I was bi.

That ended as soon as I realized I would rather lick dog poop than kiss a man. Theoretical bisexuality is great until you realize that you're about as attracted to men as a toilet bowl.

I was disappointed when I saw that the desk perched behind my own was empty. As the teacher droned on, I stared at the doorway, willing June to show up. She didn't.