Today I Am

Heavy pages of my journal look aquamarine.

I write with pastels and highlight with neons.

The leather cover is stretched back again because I have been carefully sewing together my identity.

Sitting in the conservatory, I know that green is what I feel.

Blue last month, to gray last week, then green today.

Green is a color of life, because I decided to be one of the birds of paradise.

To be a plant was easier than admitting I was gray asexual.

Green is a color of envy.

I wanted to rip the drive for having partners and intimacy out of my line of sight.

There were so many hopeful dates and beaming white teeth which smiled under restaurant lights.

No matter what, or who I'd meet, I felt that I wasn't able to give something.

If my intimacy and desire would fade within a month, so would I.

If I wanted a romantic partner, then what is wrong?

The black ink from menus, and texts, and parking garages decided to melt alongside with me.

Paper bleeds for hours, with the scribbles of failed meet-ups and after work relaxation gone haywire.

I really used to ask myself.

What is wrong with your drive?

Will you ever want what others do all the time?

What is the purpose of your organs if you don't use them much?

So I became green.

I wanted what they had.

I would've drained my conscious for the libido, the fun.

But I pushed until I got hurt.

When I ended up doing things I didn't want or liked, I turned navy.

Green is the color of introspection.

One day, I could not give my body away anymore to men who didn't like the color.

I wrote in my journal that I needed purple, because I felt safer in community.

In the end, I saw that green was many things.

I was relieved for discovering it had different shades and hues under one name.

The way I looked or how I was perceived was no one's concern but mine.

When I could not give myself to partners all the time, I accepted that it only came in waves.

Green is the color of peace.

If I am okay with myself, people who surround me will be okay too.