Anger

While I was in Cornwall I felt free. At the time I couldn't tell you what made me feel like the world was better. Brighter. But it was.

I felt like I was myself, like I was honest with myself and I had one bad night and it was still ok. Like it was ok to be myself. Like I could be who I wanted. Who I am.

It took one day back at home before I realised what it was. They didn't question my references to my Ex-girlfriend, or any of the guys I've had fun with. They didn't ask why I didn't bother getting properly dressed or why I never felt self-conscious getting the car keys back whilst soaking wet and wearing just my bikini. No one gave me looks for having short hair or having fun. I wasn't judged for anything. Strangers didn't judge me.

Today while I was walking home from work a car passed by. Heavy bass music pounding from the windows and a 16 year old guy hanging out the window getting his fill of the one arm tan.

"DYKE!"

I felt my blood burn in my veins. My anger flared up and I wanted nothing more than to scream. I ignored it. Kept walking, didn't even look his way. The flames of my blood licked my thoughts and made me want to burn him. I wanted to see fear in his eyes. I concentrated on my feet pounding on the pavement. The heat started to pass.

We currently have temporary traffic lights set up and just around the time that the roar of heat in my ears had passed I realised that the boy with the one armed tan and his car had been stopped. I knew what I had to do. I had to rise above it. Pretend I'd heard nothing. Keep walking. Concentrate on the steps.

"LESBO!"

I didn't skip a beat. I didn't stop to contemplate. I turned walking, lent above him, my hand on the car.

"What the FUCK is your problem? Is there some sort of reason you feel that you should be incorrectly reminding me of my sexuality? Do you have some kind of issue with who I'm attracted to? Because, for the record, it is none of your Goddamn business and more to the point, it is natural and normal, far more so than your inability to accept that some. People. Are. Different. You are disgusting. You need to open your eyes and see that there's a hell of a lot more to the world than this little town and your narrow minded views. So please, enlighten me: What's the problem?...*Silence on his part*... The light's green."

My words whipped him and I saw the fear in his eyes. I wanted to choke him. I wanted to tell him that people like him deserve to die because it's his words that steal months and years. I walked away the hot rage running all over me inside and out. The car had long passed and I'd almost made it home when the burning hit my eyes and the hot tears cooled my cheeks. As Taylor Mali said, Depression too is a kind of fire.