A Reflection

I've never been much for journals. I find them cliche and uninspired. I've always thought of them as excuses for people who can't express their feelings in more creative ways. But maybe tonight I need that simplicity.

I forgot what it was like to be desired. Not in just a physical way, but an all out I just want to see your name in my inbox kind of way. I hadn't had that feeling in a long time.

But as it turns out, he has. He has wanted me for a long time. Before I even started dating John, he wanted me. And he still does. And now he calls me his favorite. He says he can't wait another day to see my pretty face.

It's not elaborate. It's not romantic. It's not poetry. It's simple.
It is so simple and so refreshing
I can hardly contain my excitement.

So what if he throws a football instead of swinging a racket.
So what if he parties with his actual guy friends instead of writing music to play for all his chick friends.
So what if he's not the male copy of me.
So what if he's the red blooded American male.
Maybe he'll treat me like a fucking lady.
That would be so incredible.

He did say I was his favorite after all.

Dear Journal,
Today I was emancipated.
-Abby