Dying moments

By Selaelo ‘Sly’ / @SlyPod

I’d be grateful for the day I accepted my attraction to women. I would tell ten year old me that it is OK, girls are human too. That they can be admired and looked at by an enticed eye. I would do this instead of having the long fights I had with mama about trading dolls for a bicycle as a Christmas gift.

I would tell fifteen year old me that looking forward to Afrikaans class because I thought my teacher was the most beautiful girl in the space that is my world was OK. I would do this instead of shyly looking up her blouse and getting in trouble for it because I was not bold enough to tell her she was beautiful when she asked what was I staring at.

I would tell eighteen year old me that asking a girl to be my Matric dance date was well within my rights, instead of drafting a letter to the principal to ask permission, trying to justify it.

I would tell twenty one year old me that hearts may not be tangible but they break instead of feeling indebted to those whose I broke unintentionally.

I would tell twenty four year old me that coming out is for my own freedom instead of thinking it is for anyone else

I would tell 26 year old me that I would never be part of a nuclear family  because mine requires a government to deliberate the decision. Even if the couple is standing by the altar. This is part of my difference from a society norm as instead I must think love is justified by a piece of paper and not her heart melting besides mine.

I would tell the me that is here now that I do not need to justify my being to anyone.

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