we sat at the coffee table, on the floor, in onesies. it may have been one in the morning, but did that matter to us? no. some random cards of "truths" and "dares" were scattered all across the floor, long forgotten. now, to say this was a picture perfect moment would be a lie.
if you take that in the literal sense, it really isn't. we both have our hair tied in high messy buns practically falling off our heads and the makeup was wiped off our faces hours ago to let our skin breathe. now if you don't mean it in the literal sense, well, it still isn't really ideal.
i've been in love with my best friend and roommate for years. she doesn't know i like her, let alone i like girls at all. she doesn't know i don't feel like a girl, doesn't know all these things bottled up. i've desperately shoved all these things down and down and down and now they're all trying to break free, before i shatter, into tiny little pieces, to small to mend together, to sharp to even try. i've already shattered, small parts of me from bottling other things up until they can't stay down any longer. and i cry and i sob and i wail until my lungs burn and my throat is dry. the bottles start small, little unreasonable things fill them up. they shatter just the littlest bits of you. bottles grow and you grow thicker skin. they collect more before they crack and break. but the problem is, the bigger the bottle, the more things stuffed down, the more there's is that shatters. so my heart has decided to spill. easier than shattering. so we drink. a lot. truth or dare is a lost concept and instead we sit and stare and giggle. so i spill over. just a drop too much of her surreal being and i'm pouring out. a jumble of mumbles and mutters of confessions mix. five minutes later i'm confused and out of breath. my bottle drained every last drop, leaving me shaking. i'm staring down at my lap now praying she doesn't hate me, leave me forever. but instead she smiles. just smiles. her left check creases up into a dimple and her eyes sparkle in just the way i know everything's alright without a word being spoken. i walk to her side of the table and sit in her lap, arms wrapped around her neck. she kisses my forehead and pulls me in closer, secure arms wrap around me, i take a deep breath in and soon i'm fast asleep.
i only shatter a few times after that, and when i do, she's always there for me. my bottles reset to small ones, and i learn just to spill a little more often. she's adapting to my pronouns and our life together. we help each other through it and eventually we're somewhere we never could've dreamed of. i've learned to spill, and i couldn't be happier.
