Twinkle Toes

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

What did I just do.

I keep going back to the chat-room like the conversation will just disappear. Like maybe it was just a bad dream. A terrible, awful dream where I'm a terrible, awful person. But it's still there.

I can't believe I did that to Ryan. I didn't. I don't know why it happened that way. I don't know why it happened at all. Every relationship I've ever had, ever boy I've ever been with. I always do this. I push it away. I get afraid. Like I'm not going to be enough. Like I'm going to get in the way, and then I start picking us apart. And it ends up like this.

And it's my fault. And Ryan should never ever talk to me again. Ad much as it kills me, as much as I wish he could just let me stay, let me protect him from all the bad things in the world. I am one of the bad things in the world.

I'm selfish, and heartless. Like I'm always calling Oakley.

What if he really never does talk to me again? I don't even want to think about that. The only thing I have to cuddle tonight is my pillow. Ryan was so much more comforting. I hope he finds someone to be everything he deserves.

What did I just do.

I'm sorry...

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

I was supposed to write a piece for creative writing... But I don't think I want anyone to read this.

There's a blister in my heart.
Like the blisters in my shoes,
but harder to bare
because I'm not used to blisters being there.
And the blister in my heart
at first only sore
something I was able to ignore,
is starting to tear me apart.

I wish I knew how to heal it,
the blister in my heart.
Wish I could conceal it,
so no one would see.
But this blister in my heart,
is starting to bleed.

Don't want to seem fragile,
or broken, or lonely.
Because it's all my fault really.

I hate being wrong,
being jealous, being broken.
Maybe not admitting to myself
is what cut me open.

Maybe everyone's right,
and I've been wrong from the start.
I left a blister in my own heart.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

I've just spent half the night crying. For no reason. Or maybe for a lot of reasons. I really don't know what reasons there even are anymore. Probably too many to count. One of the reasons certainly is not the fact that some ass hole- who I'd never even met by the way- had the audacity to tell me that my sexual orientation is wrong and disgusting. I've been hearing that for years now, though. It's literally become a routine. And I've learned to ignore it. For the most part. Maybe sometimes it still hurts a little.

I mean obviously I'm not going to change who I am just because some random boy with the IQ of a baked potato says it's wrong. It's not like I could anyway. Even before I came out, people always assumed. How could they not. I was always the more feminine male. My brother's joked for years that I was adopted. Sometimes I even believed them. Pressley men have always been big, tough, jocks. Until me. Maybe that's why I'm crying.

But probably not.

It's certainly not because I'm jealous. I'm not the jealous type, never have been. Never needed to be. And of course I'm not just jealous of all my friend's relationships, or the men I can't have, or the men who won't have me, or the men I gave up. I'm not jealous of anything. Absolutely not. So, that's not why I'm crying.

Maybe I'm crying because Juliard hasn't sent me back an acceptance letter, maybe because I know they won't. But probably not. I take rejection fine. I'm used to it. So, that's not why I'm crying.

Maybe I'm crying because Tom Hanks just lost his best friend, Wilson the Volleyball, in Cast Away. Yeah, that's probably why.