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Gina

February 1999

She Chose Me

When I think about what my life has been like for the past two or three years, the first word that comes to mind is Her name, Her face. She had stirred up so many feelings and emotions, She had taken me on a rollercoaster of events. We'd known each other for a long time, and had had a few small, petty conversations over the years in which we remained civil to one another. But, when we were about thirteen, that all changed. I guess I was really the one to approach Her. But keep in mind, She chose me.

It was a hot, damp, summer night the first time I called upon Her for conversation, probably out of complete boredom. To my surprise, She said She had been waiting for me and had expected me for some time now. She invited me up to Her room, said we'd communicate more freely there. I was wary, but followed her lead none the less.

"After you," She said, motioning me in. The room looked vaguely familiar to me. It was cluttered with old toys and the walls were covered with photos. I sat on the bed and let my eyes wander as She spoke to me. The conversation started off slowly.

"So, um, who do you like?" She asked.

"Um, no one really, how 'bout you?"

"Same here, I don't know, I just don't like the guys here, they're nice and everything but..." Her voice trailed off.

"They're just not for me, maybe in another town, another time I'll find someone," I finished for Her. She nodded and we made eye contact. I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

We spent that first night together talking, talking the entire night. We were both staring at the ceiling and exchanging lives with each other temporarily through conversation. From that point on, we spent every waking moment together, writing to each other if we were forbidden to speak to one another. This seemed to be a common occurrence and when I was caught speaking with Her, I was often told I'd end up in a mental institution if I kept it up. I didn't care though, I had found Her to be my most comforting friend. She was a true companion to me and I wasn't about to stop speaking to Her because of their standards and what the "norm" was.

As we spent more and more time together, alone, my parents grew more and more concerned. Concerned about *what* I was never able to figure out, but I knew they were worried... and suspicious. My father demanded my door be kept open. A young teenage girl who needed her privacy, I found myself being reprimanded a lot for shutting it so that we could remain alone behind closed doors. In another desperate attempt to dodge my father's overbearing rule, She and I would hold our conversations in my closet.

She was with me always, always, and I began to realize *why* She had chosen me. All the time we spent together eventually lead to a dangerous inevitable. We were fifteen and on a hot, damp summer night similar to the one we began our friendship with, we truly shared the night. All of our emotions became tangled in the damp sheets as we recognized each other as one.

That night was not our last encounter and in late November of that year, She was there when I came out to myself as a lesbian. She continued to be there with me when I was rejected by some and when I had my "last hetero attempt" with some boy from some place. She was there with me always, even when I was a raging emotional wreck. At times like that I wondered why She had chosen me and why She had remained with me.

She was at one time someone I thought I hated, someone I longed to get away from. But on that hot, damp summer night, I met my soul with a renewed vision and our conversations continue despite what people say. However, I do now find myself writing to her more. My first meeting with her is something I will always treasure for She defines me as I define Her and our meeting is something I know most shake off or never realize at all. I continue living my life with Her constant presence, whispering in my ear some joke that makes me laugh at the most inopportune time. She is me, I am Her, We are one, my soul and I.

Well folks, that's it for this month, my outpour of emotions. Tell me what you think. Peace.

Gina
Rubyfrt@aol.com

Gina is a 17 year old senior in high school and lives in Oakland, NJ. She desperately wants to go to Skidmore.


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