Saturday, September 22, 2007


Well, where should I start?

First of all: I don't know who I am, what I am, and what the hell I am exactly doing here. But I suppose this is a way of getting rid of all those pretty strange things which have happened, are currently happening and will probably happen in my life. I am not a frustrated person who seeks for attention, nor somebody who longs for sympathy. I don't want and I don't need all that stuff. Just read and feel.

I'm 17. I'm a girl. And I've got one tiny little problem. Well, actually I haven't got just one tiny little problem, but regarding my family and myself, this is THE problem.

I am lesbian.

At least I think I am. And that is not good.You know, I look pretty normal. The way ''normal'' 17-year old girls look like. I don't have short hair, I dress pretty ''normal'' (what does ''normal'' mean anyway nowadays?!) and you wouldn't think I'd feel attracted by no more than men. I don't care about other people being gay. But why me?

Let's see: I was born on a beautiful summer day. As beautiful as this summer day, was also the biggest part of my childhood. I got my bicycle on my 5 birthday. I made excursions with my parents on Sundays. I had my favorite TV-show with little comic bacteria explaining you the human body. And I was given a nice, cute and incredibly intelligent little sister at the age of 7. Maybe it was the day were my mother had cleaned the windows and I had run with full force into the balcony glass door, believing it was open. I remember feeling a little dizzy. Maybe it was that which made me be what I am. Or maybe it was the fact that men are bad. Or at least that's what my mother hints constantly since my father told her he didn't love her anymore. He now lives in a village not far from the city I live in. I see him every two weeks. He's actually a good guy. He treats his daughters with love and respect. And he pays enough for us to live without any serious financial worries. But my mother didn't have it easy with him. He came home from work, sat at his computer doing stuff for work, came upstairs to eat dinner with us, and went back to work on his computer. And then, one day, my parents started sleeping in separate beds. I think I was 11 or so. I didn't really get that. I mean, since I was born, my parents slept in the same bed, and now, what? Of course there were discussions sometimes. But that's normal in a family. It was my father starting to spend more and more time in his office, less and less time with my mother, it was that what made me suspicious. Then, when I was 12 years old, he moved into an apartment by himself. Now he is happy. Nobody asked me! But I had been starting to understand. My sister of course not, but I had. Well, it actually really was the best thing to do. What wasn’t the best thing to do, was that my parents started sending me to a psychologist. What the hell would you say if somebody asks you ''What is your first thought or feeling that comes up to your mind'' while trying to explain you that a little dinosaur made out of rubber represents your father and a little yellow rubber duck stands four your mother? For the next 3 years, after visiting two other psychologists (my parents were certain I needed a professional person to talk to due to their separation), I was convinced that psychologists suck and fool you out of your money.

I drifted away a little… I was trying to find reasons why I am probably lesbisn. Ah, yes, know I remember: My mother throwing herself on the TV screen as soon as two people kissed, and desperately trying to hide the two pair of lips finding themselves. She doesn’t do that anymore. I think I told her once it’s not necessary but she still behaves in an awkward way and does stupid jokes about stupid kissing scenes in Hollywood’s romantic comedies. Why does she do that? And did that influence me in one way or another? Of course there a thousand other situations, occasions, things which although they don’t seem important, could have influenced me.

I don’t want to talk about the past. I want to talk about now. I know this is absolutely unsystematic. I jump from one thing to another. But that’s how my thoughts work. How does your head work? Do all your thoughts stand in a queue and wait to be called up? I’m going to be this rude to answer the question for you: No, they definitely don’t. They just turn up, jump in your way, expecting you to think through them, but you can’t, you forget them because the next thing is already turning up in your mind.

And this is my present situation: I’m in love.

Here I will not say: ‘’At least I think I am’’ because I’ve never been so sure about anything else. But I will say: ‘’this is not good’’ anyway, which really doesn’t make things much easier. If it could just be a boy at my age, for example one of those pretty funny and nice guys of my class. Or some of those nice and mostly respectful boys I get to meet through my friends on Friday and Saturday evenings.
But no, of course not, how could it be made me easy:

It had to be a 33-year old female English teacher at my school.

Saturday, September 15, 2007