once upon a time,
i felt like it was all placed in front of me,
all as easy as popping a hungry man in the microwave,
peeling back the plastic, and having a not so delicious, but satisfing meal.
i was 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.
i was waiting for him to come home and not have to leave.
there were long nightly phone calls, letters, presents.
he was the one i was supposed to marry.
the one who i was supposed to have babies with.
the one who i would have my own suburban home and car with.
our faces matched up- so it was all supposed to be as easy as pie.
i pused any questions i had aside, remembering that my mom and dad sacrificed a lot for love.
thoughts of there being one chance circled in my head, until drunken lonely nights of other boys and meaningless sex became more and more appealing.
trying to forget the pain, i went along with my tyrades, hiding my secret self from almost everyone.
my love for women was unexplored, and was supposed to stay that way.
with each one night stand, i was looking to feel something, and i consistanly was disappointed, feeling nothing- but a void deepening with every dick that i tried to satisfy myself with.