Seven of eight. Almost done! :D And yes it's eight. Zune labeled it all wrong because it picked the album with bonus tracks, which isn't the one I have.
07. In the Next Room
You play me like I am made of strings,
I'm a violin, a melody,
I want your lips to sing.
If you only knew how hard it is to handle,
How bad I want a scandal.
There's always this pressure in her chest and stomach when she's around Emily. She hates it. She thinks that, maybe, it wouldn't matter so much if Emily was a boy. Then she thinks she wouldn't be feeling this way if Emily was a boy. This is larger than anything she's ever felt for anyone. Actually, she's never felt this for anyone.
She was twelve when she noticed Emily; first really noticed her. Of course, back then it was different than it is now. When she first saw her, walking a few steps behind her sister, her hair its natural brown with a bow keeping it out of her face, she was immediately smitten. Her stomach did this squirming... thing and her heart skipped a beat and it was all so cliché that she wanted to tear her own eyeballs out, even at that age. It's certainly not any better now.
There have been guys, boys she tried to date and boys she fucked to try and make those stupid, cliché feelings of being head over heels in fucking love with Emily go away. Her mum didn't even seem to notice she was so caught up with her charities and protests and opening their house to every homeless, rag-tag hippy twat off the street. It's not exactly any different now, except that in addition to the stomach flipping and heart skipping, there's this burning that spreads throughout her entire body and said pressure in her chest and stomach. The burning tells her to stay and touch and explore and the pressure rises up at the same time and she feels the fear creeping in from the back of her mind. So she runs, because if she gives into that desire, then what next?
She feels like it's crushing her, breaking each of her ribs and closing them so tightly around her lungs that she can't draw a proper breath. She can't turn out like her prick of a father. She wouldn't want to do to anyone what he did to her an her mum. She's really not as big of a cunt as she comes off as. She just can't... Doing something like that to Emily would be beyond horrible. Even she's not that low, despite the number of times she's pushed Emily around. It's justified, she thinks. How could one person have so much sway over how she feels? She hates it.
She can't stop it though; the wanting. So strong that she can barely fucking contain it. And it's bad enough that she has to deal with Katie's constant teasing and labeling her as something she's not. Because she's not gay. She's not. It's an Emily thing, whatever this is, not a girl thing. It can't be a girl thing because then what Katie has said all these years would be true. All the names and managing to alienate every friend she could have possibly had.
But, the way Emily looks at her, and how her skin burns when they touch. It's so hard. She's never met anyone who knows just how to touch her in the smallest of ways to set her off. Emily just seems to know. It can't be intentional, because they've hardly ever had actual proper conversations (until college started, that is) and even that's mostly because Emily makes her so bloody nervous that she just can't think of something to say without sounding like a complete fucking bellend. And that is something that she does not want to have happen. She tries to not think about Emily at night (when she does wank, which isn't often, but sometimes she just can't fucking help it), to no avail and it's probably the fact that she can't not think about her that terrifies her the most.
