It was sometime between the last real relationship I had with a cis boy and the boy I fell in love with online who killed himself that I realized I was done loving boys. They always did more harm than good, and it was turning out that I am incredibly queer. I don't know if I actually made the decision or just acknowledged what I knew all along, but once I was committed to sticking with girls I felt a lot better.

Then you came along.

You were a boy and I was still a girl and I saw it in the way you looked at me-- how you never looked away-- that you were a sea of trouble and I'd forgotten my no-nonsense water-wings. Something about you made me nervous, and I didn't know what it was at the time but I didn't like it at all. You were different from all those other boys and I didn't know it then but I know it now. I met those boys online, and thought that's where we started, you and I ended up meeting in person. Do you know what, sweet boy? You were the kind of boy I would've said I was attracted to, all those months ago. Dark brown hair, bright eyes that sort of shined, and hands that looked soft to the touch even though they never even touched mine until we were well into the next year a little over four months later.

You were the boy I'd always wanted to love.

I didn't even know you, but I knew things would be different with you. I couldn't fumble my way through this in well-crafted messages devised to convince you I was cool and totally worthy of your time. I didn't have the guts to be one way online but let you see the unfortunately real way I could be in person. I wasn't who I would've said I was, though I think I'm closer to that now (and I think you brought me out of my smashed turtle shell just a bit). No, you were real and you were here and I don't know if that was better or worse but we ended up together all the same.

Only you didn't love me back like I loved you, and that was just fine.

Really, it was. This was just in line with every other time-- I didn't get the boy. Once again, the world turned on me and stuck its big mean finger in my face and told me my efforts weren't enough, my words weren't enough, I wasn't enough to pique and maintain interest long term. Don't you know, it was the most sufficiently beautiful thing to be let down like that. To keep with the pattern, to leave me alone in the end meant that I had a winning record when it came to being gay.

I'm queer but maybe I'm straight for you.

Baby boy, only you and I know what we really have. The rest is for everyone to wonder about because we are in no way open books when it comes to this whirlwind friendship. We are the loveliest parts of each other but even more so when we are together. I love you for that, and I love you because you are you. You're the boy who wasn't supposed to love me but we ended up in some weird friendship that borderlines on the weirdest of boundaries all the same.

You're my sweet boy, and nothing will ever change that.