A/N: So this is another one shot. It's in Ashley's POV. To all those that read my other one shot "To Die With Pride," I might add more, so just be aware of that. Uhm, okay, so again, reviews are cool, but its whatev's to me. Enjoy guys. Oh, and btw, the 8th grader is Spencer, and the crush from 9th grade is just a random girl basically. Lol
My Story, My Life
So it's like this. You watch her from afar, and your heart skips a beat every time she's near. You smile whenever she does, and you cry when she does. You keep it to yourself, these things you feel. You know you can never tell her, it'd probably scare both of you. So you keep it to yourself. You tell yourself that you'd rather be her friend, than her nothing at all.
You grow up your whole life thinking that this is all wrong, that what you're feeling isn't right. Like when you were ten, and you asked your mom about the two men holding hands. She told you that they were faggots. When you asked what that meant, she told you that "God hated faggots and dykes." Of course at ten, you had no idea what these words meant. You just knew that you didn't want God, or your mother for that matter, to hate you.
You never really questioned things again until you reached 8th grade. You met someone. Not just anyone, but someone you quickly learned to trust. Someone who'd be there for you for years to come. She'd laugh at your jokes; make you feel wanted and even loved at times. She'd become your best friend. She'd bring out the person you hid from the world. She'd make you feel free. And one night, you'd sleep and dream of her. You'd wake up and write a story. A story of a dream you had and never understood. So you wrote it. And you'd read it, over and over. Just trying to grasp the meaning. What those words meant to you. What they might mean to someone else somewhere down the road.
One day, in 9th grade, you'd write a different story. One that had nothing to do with a dream you had, but one you'd pray for. One about the future, about love and happiness. One day, your mother would find it while you were at school. She'd sit you on your bed and ask questions for hours until your eyes could no longer feel any moisture. She'd ask "are you gay?" and you'd tell her "no" over and over, because you'd know what would happen if you even think of uttering the word "yes." You'd be kicked out, not literally, but emotionally. She'd stop loving you, and say something like "God is disgusted with you." And later that night, you'd cry still, until sleep finally over takes you. You'd rip up all your work. Every story, every word, every dream.
The next time you'd write, would not be for another two years. You'd meet other friends, and lose old ones. You'd lose the friend that had once opened you up, and you'd close like a book once again. You'd keep more secrets than ever before. You go online, and meet people just like you. People who are lost, and want answers just like you. But most of all, you'd question your own existence. You'd wonder why it was that you felt the things you did, and why God would tell you that you were wrong. You'd try to, to be what your mother wanted. You look a little harder at guys, but it'd never seemed to work. It'd make you cry, it'd make you cut yourself. Not a lot, but just enough so that you'd know it wasn't worth it. You'd think about killing yourself, but you'd never want to. There were things you knew you wanted to do. Dreams you still had.
Then you'd spend you're whole summer before your senior year, trying to start over. You'd find people who lived else where and immediately introduce your self as who you thought you were: Alice, 17 year old lesbian. Although it wasn't your name, you wanted it to be. Your real name no longer suited you. You were now different. For once, you were trying to put all your secrets out there.
You met a girl online who lived in a different state. You talked to her almost every day. You'd talk to her about escaping your world, and going far away, and just being your self. You'd talk to her about love, first dates, marriage, music, and college. You'd rant about how you wish gay rights were a bigger deal to everyone. You'd laugh about episodes of The L Word, or Scrubs. You'd send each other your work, your stories, your poems. You'd tell her about your friends and family. And she'd tell you how much she loved having you as a friend, and you'd grin so big that your face would hurt. And you started to like her. You never told her, and chances are, you'd never tell her, but it didn't matter. You still went to bed smiling because for once, you were truly happy. You were truly free, and you no longer cried.
So that leaves you to where you are now. You walk these halls, along side the other seniors. You don't exactly smile the way you used to, but you still smile. You smile for different reasons these days. You smile because you know you're still hiding, but you know that as soon as you go home and open your computer, you're "you" again. You miss the girl that opened you up in 8th grade. You miss the girl you had a crush on last year. You miss the joy you got from the simplest beauty in the world, but everything always come back at night, while you sit on AIM and talk to your new friend.
It all changes when I become Alice, 17 year old lesbian.