first kiss 1/31/23

i come out of the bathroom. he goes in. i sit on the corner of his bed and try to stop feeling like i’m about to die. i think about an excuse to use to let me leave. im thinking and trying to decide and at the same time im trying to stop trembling.

i hear the door open. my heart is racing. it’s not as serious as i feel it is but i’m sure i could’ve died on the spot.

he sits next to me. i cant look at him. i know what he wants and i want to be able to give it to him, i so desperately do. but the pit in my stomach is only getting worse and im so scared.

i decide to start saying whatever i can, the awkward silence killing me.

“my friends are fighting.”

“over what?”

“i couldn’t even tell you honestly they just start fighting and put me in the middle of it”

im stuttering when i speak. i think i was trembling and i start wringing my hands nervously.

he notices. he doesn’t understand why but he’s listening i think.

“are you okay?”

“yeah i’m fine.” i try to laugh off the concern but my voice trembles. “it’s fine. i don’t know. i’m nervous. i’ve never done this before. i’ve never kissed anyone, i don’t think i’d be good at this.”

i look at him. he’s smiling. my stomach lurches and i wonder if i can walk home.

“do you wanna change that?”

he moves and closes his blinds and then settles down next to me, closer.

“i don’t know.”

im scared. i laugh to ignore it. i don’t want him to be looking at me and i don’t want to look at him.

i try to make a decision. i’ve wanted to be kissed for so long and this is someone asking, why not then?

the room spins a bit.

“okay.” i say, steeling my nerves. i fight the urge to sit on my hands and brace myself. the same reaction i have when needles get around me. it’s necessary and my emotions aren’t something that control me, they’re something to be controlled. if i want to feel fucking nothing, then nothing will be felt.

.


he’s kissing me. i don’t know what’s going on or what to do. the first thought is what i’ve heard in people describing how to kiss. “you aren’t just putting your lips together, you kiss one.”

i don’t understand that advice. but i tried it, i think. a second passes and it’s. too much. my head feels like the ocean is at my ears, water roaring throughout my skull. i don’t know what to do or what’s happening and i.


“i’m sorry.” i gasp. i’ve pushed myself off him and i’m on the corner of his bed, trying to make myself as small as possible. my breathing is erratic as i keep apologizing. my head feels foggy and i can feel his gaze on me.

“i’m sorry i’m so sorry-“

“it’s fine are you okay??”

he sounds panicked, and i know i can get out of this now. i did what everyone said to. i put myself out there. so i lean into the helpless damsel that’ll grant me my freedom.

“can you take me home?” i say, looking at him with teary eyes. i don’t know if i really felt the emotions i portrayed in that moment, but i knew it would be necessary. my emotions don’t control me, i control them, and now i control you.

“yea, yea i can take you home.”

i grab my stuff and put my jacket back on. i zip it all the way up. my outfit before, meant to attract the gaze of others, was now my worst fucking regret. i turn away from him and violently wipe at my mouth. i wrap my arms around myself and follow him out the door.

he’s grabbing his stuff as well, and i look up at him, a perfect expression of pain and regret. “can we still be friends?”

“of course, of course.”

he reiterates this when he drops me off and when i text him later. i’m not sure if i believe him.

i’m happy none of his roommates were there. i don’t know how i would’ve reacted but i’m sure it wouldn’t have been good. i walk out with dread mixed with relief. i could go home. i would see my friends and i wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore.

we walked down to his car. i tried to be normal. we got into his car. i cant remember what was said but i remember lying.

i was never assaulted, nothing ever happened to me. i don’t know why i lied. i just needed to feel valid in my confusion and fear. if nothing ever happened to me, why am i like this?

why can my brothers do what pleases them and i have to fixate on something i can’t enjoy. so much i wanted to say. but i don’t think he would’ve understood. and i knew i cared about whether or not he understood, no matter if i spoke the truth or not.

“there’s…. there was sexual assault in my past.” i quietly say.

he’s apologetic in an instant, a true gentlemen.

i don’t know why i insist on making sure people know he wasn’t a bad guy. maybe he wasn’t. i don’t know but i know where his hands were going. and maybe it’s me. maybe it’s clear that this is standard and i simply didn’t get the memo, a missing neuron in my brain, that makes this okay.

i simply do not know.

“it’s okay. it wasn’t your fault.” nothing happened and his sympathy makes my hands shake.

he’s behind my building and i’m free. it’s over. i did it and i’m waiting for the elevator and i think back and i jerk, my hands wiping at my face. i keep wiping at my face but the feeling isn’t fading.

i wasn’t assaulted and this wasn’t assault. i said yes. but why was i shaking and why was i tearing up and i wanted to feel okay. why do i never feel okay and why do i still not feel okay.

t and l try their best, i think but being around them didn’t make me feel better as i thought it would. i missed c deeply at that moment. i wanted to cry and they were laughing.

i leave. i go to m. she’s not there. e's not there.

i go to the lounge and i sit. i try to feel like the heart isn’t aching at the thought of the rest of my life being alone. i talk to a. he makes me feel better. i appreciate him.

i wish m was here. i text her. she’s eating but she’d be back soon. i stare at her location and deeply wish she was here.

she texts offering to bring me something. i love her.

time passes and i call my brother and he doesn’t answer. it’s fine.

m comes after a gumball episode. her hairs up and she looks so pretty and im in love with her.

she tells c to leave and she sits on top of my legs. i tell her what happens and she looks at me in a way that makes me wanna cry. i tell her i want to kill myself and she holds my hand. i tell her i don’t think i want to kiss anyone ever again but im lying. i want to kiss her even with the possibility of being scared again. i don’t think she would make me feel scared. everytime i start writing it begins being an ode to her. and i hope my feelings are real and i hate that i have to reiterate this everytime i write but i don’t know.


and now i’m rambling. but that’s the story. that’s my first kiss.