It's an interesting mental position; this one of wondering and estimating, debating and fine tuning. Trying to twist myself into something else, thinking about the things that must be wrong with me.
Wanting a boy - just a silly boy, and wondering why he doesn't want me in return? In this day and age identity is hard to come by - self expression is sometimes stifled, and then sometimes you just don't know where to begin to look, to uncover who you are. Sometimes you waste years trying to bury it and spend the rest of your time playing a new role.
It becomes an all consuming game of guess work and doubt. A delicate dance of what you think you project, what you suspect he wants, and what you truly are. I don't know what's real anymore.
Is real love about devotion in spite of what you are? Being defined by the things you fail to be, and accepted nonetheless? Does one half always settle, just a little more than the other? Or should 'it' be a perfect union of yin and yang - an ideal collision of opposites that make a logical whole?
There is one thing I am very sure of, and that is, that I don't know anything about 'it' at all.