bluestruckholly: what do you want she askedand i begin typinguntil i backspace.i read the question…

bluestruckholly:

what do you want

she asked

and i begin typing

until i backspace.

i read the question again

like it’s high school all over again

another paper i didn’t study for.

what do i want?

why is that so difficult to answer?

why does it make me

swallow ice shards and pierce my throat?

this should be easy

this should be a cursory glance

at a page i’ve already memorised.

i don’t know why

i’m scared of my own desires.

what do you want

blinks at me from the screen

and there is no simple way

to say this,

what i’ve been taught not to say.

i want to be happy

and, fuck, when did that

become a controversial thought

when did someone else decide whether

my life was worth living or not

i want freedom

and so what if my skin is darker

than yours

so what if i love differently

than you

so fucking what if I worship another

than you do

i am here. i am alive.

i am not less worthy

than you.

i want to own myself.

– thoughts of a brown, pansexual, Muslim girl // day 12 // bluestruckholly