Too much I want to be known. I want to be read. I want people to know what I say, even if they do not know my name.
I love. I've watched a guy throw himself off a bridge and call it love and the most I can hope for is to bring my love a glass of water or to tuck him into bed. My current love is very parental, and I'm ok with that.
I do not talk about this love, because no one understands. In this world of looking out for myself and myself alone, people would say that I'm being taken advantage of. But even when my love is upset at me, I'd rather have him as my love, more than anyone else.
My life is a Yvonne Elliman song. Or possibly a Nina Simone song.
Yes, I would love to have someone to have sex with - bare, weakening sex - but love - I want for this person. This man. Who loves me too. But who also loves another.
Yes, I would love to have friends, but when I come home, and he is home, I'm with family.
But I do not say this because I don't think it is important, or that I'm important. And it isn't noteworthy, or that someone will misunderstand, but here I am saying it, because I say too little, when I want so much to be heard. And I want to say to as many people as possible - to the one I love and the one he loves and all my friends and their lovers and the guy who jumped - I love you.