What I was doing,
hiding in the janitor's office
was something I didn't know myself.
But I really want to talk to you, Artis.
Without Reid.
Without Elena.
Without the whole school
judging each and every word, though
it's none of their business.
"Shh," I whispered as I pulled you in,
our close proximity in that tiny cubicle giving my
brain an overload.
"What?" you asked.
H o n e y b r o w n shone brighter in the dark closet.
How can people not see how pretty you are, Artis?
I pulled you in for a hug
because it was too painful.
I've been on the bottom of the chain, Artis.
Remembering people being mean for no particular reason,
and being on the receiving end of things that are too traumatising,
even though I'm older now.
You are beautiful.
You are amazing.
Why are you invisible?
It's not fair.
Most of the student body says high
school is hell because of
popular bullies.
They don't realise we get bullied
because of the deafening whispers
that fills every single creak in school.
It's not the popular people.
It's the mob.
And though now I'm popular,
the backlash waiting for me is scary.
I'm sorry, okay?
I might be older but I'm still scared.
"Christmas," I exhaled in your ear, "under the town Christmas tree. 5 sharp."
Your hands moved to my neck,
mine to your back
and in the dark,
it was all the answer we needed.
Will you accept me as I am,
insecurities and all included,
this Christmas?