Girls Like Girls

The fact that I existed for seventeen years without knowing her, and now never have to live another year without having met her

But when you let go, you can take all that love you had, all the energy, and funnel it into yourself instead. Because there is so much for you to love about yourself, Coley.

You push it down. You ignore it like it’s a plant that’ll shrivel away. But you’re the thing that’s shrinking. And one day you learn: it’s not that you’re not like other girls. It’s just that you’ve never met a girl like you. And then, you do. You meet her. And suddenly the songs make sense.

I think about those family portraits on Sonya’s walls. How I’ll never have that. Don’t you have to know what a family feels like to build one?

Last time, I tell myself as I lean forward. Last time I press my lips to her forehead, my hands cradling her head. Last time I walk away from her. “Coley?” I turn. Last time she looks at me like this, like I’m the world and the moon and the entire universe she’s loosing. “One day, I’ll be as brave as you,” she tells me. Last time she shatters me with her words.

It's like an ember inside me, too hot to touch for too long, but so tempting in its glowing beauty.

Coley, guys don’t change” she says. “Girls just tells ourselves they will if they love us. But what actually happens is that the girl changes, so that they’ll keep loving us.

You are the good part of everything, sweetie. We can’t control what people do - how they betray us or even why. How they leave our lives. So many people are running scared. And sometimes they run back to us and earn back our trust. But the ones who don’t come back - or who don’t work to earn back what they lost from us - we have to let them go.

And now I know: to go through life unknown when you’ve had a taste of the other side is a lot more bitter than sweet.

We can’t control what people do—how they betray us or even why. How they leave our lives. So many people are running scared. And sometimes they run back to us and earn back our trust. But the ones who don’t come back—or who don’t work to earn back what they lost from us—we have to learn how to let them go.

I think love is a shitload of things. But most of all, I don’t think making yourself smaller to be with someone is worth it. Ever.

But you, the girl not like other girls … you look down that road, and it’s not shiny and bright. The thought of it doesn’t make you feel any of the ways ever described in story or song.

So Girl grows up. Girl gets the boy next door tripping over his feet, or the football player missing his throws, or the quiet geek proving his worth (while getting hot during a makeover montage; let’s be real). And then Girl marches off, arm in arm with her guy, happily ever after. The road’s so well-worn there’s probably a trench in the middle of it. It’s the road you’re supposed to choose. The one everyone expects you to travel. But you, the girl not like other girls … you look down that road, and it’s not shiny and bright. The thought of it doesn’t make you feel any of the ways ever described in story or song. And those people, they’re not all lying—which means there’s a secret you’re keeping even from yourself. That feeling you can’t—and now maybe won’t—name.

He thinks too much. It’s not a big deal.” “Do you really think that about being gay?” She looks at me, and for a second her gaze turns fierce. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is a fuckwad,