THIS WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED VIA TINYLETTER ON DATE STAMPED
- I agreed to treat you and call you germs for your dark skin, kinky hair, large eyes, and full lips.
- I was disgusted when I learned you had a crush on me and disappointed in myself for thinking that even though you looked and acted like a boy, ultimately, you’re still a girl like me.
- You were telling our friends you’re a lesbian. They knew you were much closer to me and thought they should push you to me, literally, and tell me about it yourself. You lied because you were scared of me. Or maybe I was scary.
- You had just gotten dressed, checking yourself in the mirror, and I thought to myself why I still don’t do that. So when you asked me if you looked fat, I said yes so I could sound like someone who knew something even though I didn’t know what fat in a 13 year old mean and look like. You changed into another shirt, upset, not at me, but at yourself.
- I was at a youth leader’s meeting at church and felt I was defending you by saying we shouldn’t treat homosexuality as a special nor greater sin. You are not sin to me.
- I laughed at your Visayan accent when you were speaking in English. You just had a different mother tongue that didn’t like to hide.
- Our Values teacher told the class it’s bad to steal but people who steal so they could have something to eat aren’t necessarily bad people. Blinded by my own privilege, I thought to myself she had a moral compass too screwed up and dipped in poverty to deserve to teach at our school.
- Every time a boy would tell me I’m not like other girls, I get flattered. I am like other girls; they just had the wrong idea. It doesn’t make me better than the rest of them.
- I pitied you for drinking and partying because I was told people who do use it as an escape from a bad emotion or memory.
I apologize for not knowing better early enough to not have wronged you in more ways than I could count.
This is the third instalment of my One Paragraph A Day project where I try to write at least a single paragraph each day. No outlines. No letting things sit in my drafts. No proofreads. Just write, even shit. The most important thing is I’m writing.