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“In a world of war, why do we fear love the most? Why does it matter if two men or two women are in love?”
We first met on the stairs at our school. She looked peaceful. Quiet. I don't know what I was getting myself into at that moment, but if god- if someone gave me a second chance, I’d do it all over again.
….…
When I was young, my parents would tell me two women or two men can’t be together. She said it was unnatural. Gross. She said God made a man and a woman for a reason. That reason being the woman carries the man's children. I never understood why it was so frowned upon, I was little so I just did as I was told.
As I got older I started meeting people who dated the same gender. There wasn’t a problem with it, or was it unnatural. Maybe some people just don’t like it. Like how some people don’t like certain foods. But just because you don’t, doesn’t mean you have the right to hurt others. They’re just being themselves.
My mom put me in a church school when she saw some of the kids at my public school. She told me that I shouldn’t be around those “sinners”. Around the “devil’s children”. She said I needed to be around the children of “god”. Who even is God? If he really were a “savoir” why hadn’t he done anything to “save” people from liking the wrong people? Why hadn’t he saved people from being poor? My mom tells me not to worry about it, she says God can’t get to everyone all at once. But you also say “God can do anything and everything he wants.” So why? If he can do anything and everything he ever wants, why doesn’t he help these people? It doesn’t make sense to me.
At my new school, these kids were talking about how queer people should die. How they should burn in hell. They say these things, yet there’s people out there killing others. Murdering children. But people who love are worse? How can love be more criminal than murder?
Love is a natural thing everyone experiences. It doesn’t have to be romantic, not all love is, so why is that wrong? I don’t like my school very much, everyday I beg and beg my mom to let me go back to a public school. When I got into highschool she finally let me go. It was different at first, there were so many different kinds of people.
I met this girl half way through the year. She had gingerish hair, pulled into braids everyday. She was tall and had freckles scattered across her face. She’s beautiful. Wait, am I allowed to say that? I pushed the thought into the back of my mind. I’ll think about it later.
We met after school one day. I was playing my guitar on the stairwell steps, I thought there weren't many people left at school, it was late and most got picked up already. But she was still there. I didn’t hear her walking down the hall by the stairs, she stopped walking and just stood there. I didn’t notice her until I stopped playing to go write something down. That’s when I saw her staring. She looked dumbfounded. I looked at her through my glasses for a split second, I was anxious. I don’t know why though. It’s just a girl. A classmate. I’ve probably had classes with her at some point. So why was I so uneasy? She started walking towards me, she had a bright smile on her face. It was alluring.
She walked up to the steps next to me. She told me my playing was beautiful. I hesitated before thanking her. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I told her I play music during my free time. I do really enjoy it, but I don’t have time for it to be something more. It’s the same thing with photography. I love it but not enough for it to be more than just a hobby.
We talked for a little bit, or at least that’s what it felt like. We talked for about half an hour until her mom got to the school to pick her up. Before she left she wrote down her number on my hand. As she started to leave, I stared at her back. She turned and waved once more, with a huge smile on her face. Pretty… I never got her name…
…..…
My mom always told me that gay people would go to hell. That she would never love them, and they should never be loved. I believed that as a kid, but now I'm not so sure. What’s so wrong with loving someone?
The next day after school I sat by the same stairs hoping to see her again. “Maybe this time I’ll get her name.” She ended up showing. I was happy when I saw her across the hall. She sat down next to me and started talking. She told me her name. Natsuki. It was lovely. She asked me questions, and I answered them. I played my guitar a little bit. Strummed it. I let her play some chords. She wasn’t that good but I couldn’t tell her that.
After school we would hang out if we could. Sadly we couldn't see eachother everyday, I would either have Photography Club, or she would have violin practice. I brought her over to my house one day. My mom didn’t suspect anything. Why would she? We’re just two girls. Nothing would be weird right? She came over during the weekend, I showed her my pictures and we played music. When I showed her my photos on my camera, she got close enough that our hands touched. I hadn’t even noticed that she started talking. She looked at me confused. I apologized and asked her to repeat herself. She told me my photography was good. She seemed genuine saying that. I’ve never had someone say that to me and have such a pure look in their eyes. Most of my photos in my camera are pictures of landscapes. I could never capture someone's beauty in a picture, but I wanted to take one of her so badly. I wanted to capture her in the most lively lens. Etch her name in the frame. Forget all that is wrong with me. Forget this feeling.
I don’t know how to feel anymore. My mother and father say that those who are attracted to the same gender are “sinners”. I don’t want to be a sinner. I’m not even sure what I am. You have so much to do but I don’t have anything ahead of me. She’s the moon. Beautiful. Shining against the ocean. Reflecting effortlessly. But I’m not even a star. How am I supposed to capture you in a simple camera lens? This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m going to regret this.
…….
We started hanging out more during after school hours. When you saw one of us, the other was always by their side. When one of us wasn’t at school, the teachers would ask the other where they were. People say we’re “two peas in a pod” . I'm not so sure I like that saying, but if she likes it then I'm fine with it. I’m not sure what exactly I would call us. We’ve known each other for a year now, yet I feel like she’s been there all my life. We’re the same. We’re friends, but we’re so much more than that.
When I’m with her my skin burns. It aches for her. Bleeds for her. But when I feel this I close up. Why does it hurt? Why do I want to be a man?
My Mother always tells me women can’t be together. That it’s a sin. So when I look at her I have to pretend to not feel like I am. I don’t get why two men or two women can’t be together. Why is it so frowned upon? Why is it your so-called “sin”? I’m scared I will get punished if I act upon these feelings. That’s why I will keep them enclosed. Caged. Unseen in the dark. If I let people see them- if I let people see me, they will despise it. Hate me for who I love.
I’m not sure how I feel about Natsuki, but what I do know is that I love her. If it’s platonic or romantic, I still love her. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know. Even if I don’t want to know. They tell me.
I lay under the cross. Is this how Jesus felt? Being battered and banged by nails because he did something wrong? What did you do those three days you were dead? I don’t understand. I pray with my parents hoping one day this feeling will go away. Hoping that I will be accepted into the gates of heaven. Hoping that they won’t see the red on my hands from my sins.
…..…
I was invited over to her house in summer one day. I had gotten my license the year prior so I could just drive over. Natsuki didn’t live too far. She didn’t live too close either. When I got there I brought my camera so I could take some pictures. I never liked taking pictures of people. People can be boring sometimes, so I tend to capture nature in my lens. Nature's beauty. I never liked taking pictures of people because nature is much easier to capture. Nature is beautiful. But she out shines that. She's more elegant than nature itself. She’s more breathtaking than fields of poppies in the morning air. She’s my north star. So easy to see, yet so hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
When I got to her house Natsuki had set up a tent outside. She told me we were going to star gaze. Take pictures. Look at the stars cause they’re so pretty. If I’m being honest, our whole time star gazing; our whole time laying next to each other, all I could do was watch her. She says the stars are the most beautiful thing we humans can see. But how could she say that when she’s right next to me? It’s always been Natsuki. Always.
When I had to go back home, she told me she loved me. I guess that’s normal for friends, but caught in the moment I kissed her. I don’t know why I did. Actually I do. I think that’s why I ran away. I ran away from her. From my world. My north star. From you. How am I going to get home now? For the next couple of days she stopped answering my messages. It lasted a week. I stopped trying. I don’t care if you yell. I don’t care if you scream. If you reject me. Call me disgusting. Just talk to me. Please. Please be rude.
A month had passed since the last time I talked to her. My mom found out about my feelings towards her. It’s still summer, but it feels like winter with how cold I’ve been feeling.
My mom took away my phone, she yelled and screamed at me. She told me how I am a disgrace to this family. How I’m not her “Daughter” anymore. I miss you a little extra when my mom tells me no one loves me. I miss you a little extra when I see a motorcycle in the streets. I miss you a little extra when I see a ginger with braids. I miss you. I’m sorry for ruining your life. I actually don’t know if I did or not. I know it was selfish of me to do that. But if I were being completely honest with you, I would do it all over again.
….…
There’s only two weeks left of summer. I hope to see her again at school. Our senior year. It would be nice to see her just one more time. But all things end right? I never wanted to hurt Narsuki. I hope she knows that.
I thought I saw her at the store the other day. It Wasn't her, I went and tapped a random person's shoulder. It was kind of embarrassing. I know Natsuki would’ve laughed at me. I miss her. I hope she knows I never meant any harm. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love someone without my mother in the back of my head telling me that it’s “wrong” or “disgraceful”. I just want to be happy; I don’t think I’ll ever fulfill that desire of mine though.
It’s been three years since we last talked. I hope you’re doing alright. I got to put some of my pictures in a museum. I also was in a magazine for “best nature photography”. I never showed my pieces of you I took. It felt too personal. I felt like people could look right through me if I showed them.
I look for you in the things you liked. In music stores. In concert halls. In museums. I never could find you. Maybe it’s for the better. Maybe I won’t mess up your life again. Maybe we can be in another lifetime. I doubt that could ever happen though. But if it does, I want you to know I never wanted to hurt you. I hope you’ve moved on. You have a good life. You’re happy.
….…
One day when I was in Washington DC, I saw a sign for a violin performance. The picture had a photo of the performer. It was you. It was really you. The poster said it was today at some concert hall. I ran and got tickets. I waited so long for this. I don’t care if you yell. If you scream. If you hit. I just want to see my best friend again. Just one more time.
When I got there it was packed. I didn’t know anyone there, but it was fine, I was here for you anyway. I saw you perform. It was beautiful. Gorgeous. You played so effortlessly. All I did was sit there and cry. I cried and cried as quietly as I could. I choked on my sobs. I couldn’t watch it anymore so I left the building. I sat on a rock near the lot. I sat there for what felt like hours. I’m not sure how long I was actually there for, but I wish I had just gone home in the first place. I didn’t notice someone walking closer and closer to me. I was whipping my chapped red face. I felt a touch on my shoulder, I turned quickly. My heart stopped. It was her. Her. She was dressed in a back suit with her hair pulled up into a bun made of braids. Those braids. I really was her. I didn’t even notice my cheeks were getting wet again from the tears. I heard a small chuckle of relief, then I was wrapped tight in a warm hug. It felt so nice. It felt like I’ve been waiting for years for this touch that will only last a couple of seconds. But for me it felt like an eternity. My mom always talked about how god hugs you when you sleep, yet I’ve never felt that warmth before. But this. This; Is different. I don’t believe in god, but I do believe you’re my savior. You’re the warmth I feel when I’m happy. You’re the music I hear when playing. You’re that morning air on a sunday. You’re the paintings in the museum that have been handled with care. You’re everything.
You released me from the hug. I hated not being so close to you. I want our hearts to connect. Our veins to intertwine. To feel the warmth of your blood on a deeper level.
You cupped your hands around my tear stained cheeks. You whipped away what felt like years of neglect. You held me so softly in your hands. You held me like if you made one wrong move I would break. Like I would fall into a million pieces. You held me like you cared.
Your eyes were so pure. So full of love, I felt threatened. You looked at me as if I were a painting you had just varnished. You hung me up in the museum of your mind. Yearning for one day to see me again. I felt the same.
You told me that one of your friends saw someone with navy blue hair holding their face leaving the concert. After you thanked everybody you told me you ran out looking to see if they were still here. If it was me. You said how you tried reaching me so many times. It turns out that my mom was keeping you from contacting me. You told me you never wanted to hurt me. That you always loved me no matter what. You said you fell in love with me our junior year, so when I kissed you you wanted to tell me. You said that one day you saw a magazine that had one of my photos in it. It had my name and email on it. You tried so hard not to contact me. You never did, you said it was better for the both of us. But now that we’re here now and talking. In a world of war, why do we fear love the most? Why does it matter if two men or two women are in love? I realized that it never mattered that we are both girls. It doesn’t ever matter in the long run. At the end of it all we’re just two people who love each other. Two bodies sculpted by the earth. Flesh and bones. Man or Woman. We are two people. Two people who live off of each other. Like a crow and flesh. Time after time, feeding off of each other. I love you, and you love me. Thank you for showing me that love can be like this. How it doesn’t matter what we are. How it doesn’t matter if we’re a man or woman. Thank you.