Tell Me a Lie

by Brianna Flores

Sickening. It feels like it’s true. It feels like I deserve that label, like I am that word, so often, and it’s times like this when it’s just so hard to ignore. If nothing is wrong with me, why don’t they love me?

You don’t become the kind of person who goes to gay bars to find a stranger just to ask him to tell you he loves you without getting acquainted with the feeling of being unloved. That’s not normal. I’m not normal. I just want someone to want me. To want to keep me. To be sad when I disappear, not relieved.

"Your little hole is so fucking needy, just desperate for a cock, huh?"

I don’t mind telling him that I love him, lying to him. Mostly because I’m not all that sure that it is a lie.