Walk Away

No, you think to yourself, this is not right. This was a fun summer and all, but you want to live an ordinary life. One where you don't get confused at which pronouns you use when you think about your best friend. One where your best friend dresses up like her (his!) real gender.

You find your clothes, and are shocked to find a tear streaming from your eye as you pull the shirt over your head. Am I crying? Maybe I should take it slow and think about this more carefully? Am I really making the best move?

You're about to acquiesce until the stronger part of your soul shakes its head in disgust. Who that fuck says I can't ignore my feelings? I know - two-cent shrinks on self-help hotlines and cat ladies on Buzzfeed. I'm going to get a woman, marry, and lead a normal fucking life! I'm an alpha male, and that means I can find myself a real girl, not some half-assed sissy slut.

And that's what you do. You don't even turn back as you leave.