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It Might Just be a Phase

“It might just be a phase” She said to me. It wasn’t comforting, Because it meant there was no way I was okay. I was fourteen. She was a leader. I looked up to her; I thought she was cool. I remember Lying in bed, Watching Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon With the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen In real life. That moment is etched into my brain forever, Only for those words “It might just be a phase” To bury it forever. Because it must be true... Because if it wasn’t true... So I buried my love Buried my feelings, Buried my sex, Under layers of guilt and trauma and shame. I was so desperate to be ‘good’. Even when I met a boy, Those feelings were allowed. But only a little bit. I was too much. I felt too much, I loved too much For them. Many years later, I cracked the surface of myself And like a fountain I poured forth. I burst at the seams That those words sewed into me. My feelings blossomed. They became large and beautiful. They demanded respect And space. The church was always scared of women taking up too much space. “It might just be a phase” Was true in the end. I left the church at eighteen years old. I walked out, Holding, comforting, Loving That fourteen year old And myself.

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