i was first called gay
in third grade.
it was a sneer——
a word packed
with derogatory meaning
it was meant to grind me down
and it did
i spent nights
lying in my bed
crying
lying to my dad
about why
knowing that this
was why they called
me that
and yet
i didn’t really
know what it meant

i was called a twink
in tenth grade.
yet again
in the most
harmful way possible
at a time
when sex
felt so
unfamilar
and hostile
to me

i covered myself
in a new label
everyday:
straight——
asexual——
bi——
gay——
and nothing
kept me warm
and it felt
as if
everyone
was trying
to force
one upon me
or rush me
to find one
that fit
and nothing does

and i blame
these words
for why i still
don’t understand myself
why every label
tastes bitter
i know who i like
i know what i’m comfortable doing
and yet
i somehow feel
repulsed
by everything
and i blame
those words
those people
because deep down
they fucked me up
and there’s a part
of me
that never wants
to feel love
so i never have to
come to terms
with who i am

and i hope that those people feel pride,
because i sure as hell don’t.