I am an opening up tree. I am the center of a flower. I am the girl who is all hands. I am the girl who wants to be fucked, so bad. I walk around and the itch between my legs, you wouldn’t believe. I am drowning in my own barely leashed sexuality. I am oozing. I am honeypot, men come to lick me. I do not want them near but I am afraid to push them away too hard, I am afraid it will make them hate me, make them hurt me. I smile complacently and he thinks I am being solicitous. I feel abandoned on a tiny island surrounded by crocodiles. I am so bad at this. I am so new to this. I am so new to all of this. I need someone to help me.
I think he stays away to try to give me space. I do not need space. I need him around like security, I need him around like keep me safe from all those other guys. I keep him near me as much as I can but he is tense, his eyes searching, pupils wide. I brush my leg against his one day. It is the most intimately we touch. I keep my leg near his until I remember that I am fat. Then I move my leg away.
He looks at me expectantly. I am not sure what I am supposed to do. I am not sure I am supposed to do anything. I feel like every time I try, his brow furrows, he looks confused then alarmed then upset. He pulls away. I move closer to him, he collapses into the hole inside his head, pulls the covers over the top of his back, looks at me through shivering hurt eyes. Who hurt you, I ask but do not say. When I go to hug him, he wants to hug me to the side, like a friend. He said he only wanted to be friends. I knew he was lying but I believed him anyway.
I wanted to say, but then all this flesh that is my body, what is it for? I am still asking. I am still looking down at pleasure that blooms between us. I buy vibrators and I get on Tinder and I get drunk a whole lot. I fucked other men in the interim and thought about him the entire time. I never thought I would be that person. I never thought I would deliberately close my eyes roll back my head wish I was anywhere else while a stranger stuck his tongue between my legs. I was so aching, so ready for something that never happened. When the person you love hates you, numbness seems a reasonable option. All you want is to forget. I was 16 years of wanting something I fucked up, sure. But something he threw away. When they touched me, I came and came.
After, I felt worse than empty. I felt like a hole, and nothing else. I felt like I needed him to comfort me. I chased him for months, looking for comfort. I chased him expecting him to one day startle, look up and say, I made a huge mistake. I chased him waiting for him to realize all those things he thinks about me are lies built on the fantasy inside his mind.
He is dating a cute blonde girl. She is thin like bad poetry. They look like whitewashed versions of themselves, as is appropriate. I look like a person who is dying, which, I suppose I am. I am sick seven months out of the year, now. Can I tell you a secret? I am going to the hospital to get some tests done and maybe the tests will say I have leukemia or maybe the tests will say there is no reason I am sick for 6 months at a time.
Maybe my body is making things easy on me. Trying to take the pain of white supremacy away. To take me away from white supremacy.
He is the great white hope of our people. He is white-passing and male and the white people he wants to fit in with do not like him but they accept him. They don’t love him but they treat him okay. He’ll be okay. Won’t he?
My mother pushed me away into the arms of white wealth but I came back and I refused to leave. She tried to give me my best chance but I refused to let her make me stop loving her. I wish he had done that for me

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