I am Messapotamia Lefae. These are my Thoughts.

CHAPTER ONE

I was born 25 eons ago between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers.

For at least 18 of those eons, I have felt like an ugly duckling.

I had an especially hideous adolescence.

I realize that I look nothing like I did when I was a teenage boy with enormous eyebrows and questionable fashion sense, but…

Sometimes I still feel like an ugly duckling!

Sometimes all I can see are my flaws.

Sometimes I think that nobody but rice queens find me attractive because I’m Asian-American. Seriously.

I feel the sting of post-colonialism and racism.

I’m brown.

Does that make me a second class citizen?

Does my race limit my agency?
Is my beauty dependent on the opinion of another?

I’m paranoid.

I spend a lot of time obsessing over my appearance.

It takes me 2 hours and a Klonapin to get ready in the morning.

Give me a little weed and then I realize that looks aren’t everything.
All of a sudden…

I can delight in my individuality.

I can become something more than that frightened, melancholy little boy.
I can reinvent myself – and I have.

I can live under an alias – and I do.
I can make Depends look couture – and I wear them to parties.

I can love myself.

I can hold my own – thank goodness.

CHAPTER 2

I mist.
I emit pheromones and they seem to only attract assholes, clingers, control freaks, and boys that want me to be their mommy.

I don’t want to be a playtoy.

I don’t want to be in a relationship based on a fantasy.
I don’t want to be repressed.

I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone that I don’t love, simply because they love me.

I want to love the person I’m with.
I want to get excited when I receive a text message.

I want to fall asleep with a big spoon with fresh breath.

I want someone to want me so bad that they can’t help but eat my ass out for 45 minutes of every day for the rest of my life.

Reality check!

My Fertile Crescent has remained untouched for nearly 8 weeks.

I started telling people that I’ve taken a vow of celibacy so I can focus on my spiritual growth. I’ve almost convinced myself that it’s true.

I think maybe I’m holding out.

Maybe I don’t want to soil myself.
Maybe I don’t want someone unworthy to soil me.
Maybe I don’t want to feel cheap. Like Craigslist cheap.

My heart is open.
I still have crushes.

My hands get cold.

My heart beats faster.

I can’t formulate words.
I still know how to write a very flirtatious facebook message.
I fantasize about incredibly innocent things
Like tanning with a special someone on my roof

Or being carried everywhere
Or making up obnoxious catch-phrases together.

My paranoia ceases to exist when I feel the rapture

It isn’t carnal, it’s something else. It’s ..
Romance. And Passion.

And I still love it even if it’s all a figment of my imagination
Because it makes me feel good.

I’m still in love with the idea of being in love.
And I need to sing about it.