It seemed easier to like someone when she could not have dealt with herself, never — especially not with what she had discovered. Not with the body she was in. Not with having it tested what it tasted like against another. Not under cover.
Emma.
That someone happens to be my only boyfriend who would accept me. What’s acceptance? Love. Liking? To be better than his girlfriend! No, wait. I just can’t seem to manage myself, deal with my hands if it does not slap my thighs, feel my insides, I want that weapon clenching my insides. I am not born with it why?
Everything for Emma was not enough, so she took some away from another girl and tried it on her wondering, which is gold. And a man, must be my diamond. This is the world. Why do I have to be like this, under cover? This monster pouncing upon me, a zombie eating my brains; telling me. I could do it. I could let you feast on some cleavage. She snatched away her covering, of pretty printed flowers. Pastel in colour.
My only friend. Boyfriend, Frederic. All you would have wanted to do is to look at him, (but he is mine) lure him into your arms, dreaming he saves you in a herculean jiffy, marries away your greatness. I am just hidden under cover. Praying relentlessly for another, a body against mine.
Emma.
“Emma is just a friend”
A friend does not just fly down from across the state to have dinner with you.
“Yeah.” Fred got confused, and lately that has been a reaction. “No, wait. But why?”
Because a friend is just a friend.
“Oh come on, babe. Friends are always there for each other.” a lame argument, he was getting used to along-with the confusions.
Not girls.
“Right,” what wait! “so that is just it, right, her female is bothering your female?” it was a genuine question.
NINA 
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