a blogpost I write, hoping it’ll nudge me into writing the play

Still writing the play. Not much writing today. Wanted to burn it yesterday. Everything goes wrong.

I’m writing about my sexual history – because I want to see it represented. When I talk to other people, I discover everyone has stories they can’t make sense of, stories they don’t understand. We don’t all get happy endings, we don’t all get romantic comedies. We get dark comedies or no comedies at all. We want to have a summer romance, so we ignore that the handsome Mexican man is a bit of an asshole; we want to be wanted, so we do what they want us to do; we don’t know who we are, so we let others define it; we get awkward, desirous, surprised. We want that pink picture, so we pretend that everything that doesn’t belong in that picture – doesn’t exist. I know this. I lived this.

I want all this in a story – for you. So you know that it’s fine. And believe me, I love romantic comedies, especially if they aren’t too stereotyped. Funny/awkward/messed up stories will always have my attention. I just want to push it more. Sometimes you realise that things are actually dark, and where were you when it started, what were you thinking? Sometimes you’re somebody’s plaything and don’t know until much later. I know this. I lived this. You did, too.

I want to tell the story, it deserves to be told. Happiness doesn’t look the way we expect it to look. I’m with someone now, and it’s not glamorous, or flashy, or anything like that. But that’s fine – I’m not, either. We never saw it coming, and it’s good, because of being ordinary in its weirdness. But that’s a different story, isn’t it? Let me show you how I got here….

Finally, I need to forgive. Wherever you are, you, who hurt me – I forgive you. It was my choice. I got hurt – and yes, in some cases, you should’ve known better. But I grew beyond this, beyond you. It shouldn’t have happened, maybe, but it does, these things do happen – and I will not take away from my own grit, skill, strength and achievement – in living past it. In getting over it.

For the love of words, I just want to write…..


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