D A Y 3 // C O T T O N • C A N D Y • G I R L & N I P P L E S
I’m straight. Well, maybe I’m crooked (I’m not necessary the typical kind) but I do like boys. Some, at least.
So when I talk about Her like I do, it’s more of a romantic affection than an erotic one.
This girl, from age 6 till 14 smelled like pink cotton & wet cedar.
For 5 years we were like sisters meeting each day at the same intersection. She was blond, I was brunette, she was perfectly polished, me—I’d rather not say. One day in math class we laughed so hard she pooped herself. And then I laughed so hard my mother had to come to school. How do you punish someone for pooping out of joy?
Anyways, we made memories with a capital M and even though some of it is fading away, the smell of her and the love for her is like we just had a sleepover.
And one other thing—her nipples were like sharp knives and I knew no boys will ever look at me when she was close. This was fine—my childhood was over sexualized anyways. Her nipples, when I was in her presence made me almost invisible so she became my White Blonde Shield.
In grade 5 I lost her to A.
A. was my nemesis from pre school time. A terrible bully with a strong influence, yellow teeth, and a gossiping mother. She was the reason for me avoiding certain streets. Just so you know, she has never been accepted on any of my social media. Because decades later, same pit in my throat.
Within half a year of grade 5, I lost my beautiful White Blonde Shield. A, as influential as she was, made my life a playing field. She was the first one who pushed me towards avoiding being best: best student, best in sports, winning. You know these kinds? Or that pit in your stomach? Driving by fear, needing to be somewhat accepted, I stayed on the sidelines. Sidelines of A.
At 14, more grown up, we all discovered that bully doesn’t necessary mean a leader. But by that time I was already a strange character, planning to leave my town for 6th best high school in Poland, and ready to leave A behind, in a small town of, what I though, no future and sugar beets. Besides, my heart was crunched up by White Blonde Shield like a stupid love note, not ready to give my Blonde another chance. It’s that Moon in Scorpio I have, you know…
A couple of years ago my ex sister and I met on a Polish social media platform. There I told her: “That year my heart broke like a porcelain teacup” to which she said: “But, Marta, we were just kids.”
With wet eyes, I responded: “That’s right. That’s the reason my heart never recovered.”
And even now, while I’m writing this, I can see her blond bob and I can smell the cotton candy sweetness she carried around her neck. She was The One. The perfect One. The first love I lost.
#30daysofHeartNesting : to sit, to sharpen, to soften, to write, to reveal, to remove my blind spots.
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