This was written last night, on a piece of paper in a Subway in town. There’s a follow-up post coming too.


The sandwich isn’t moving. No matter how much or how hard I pick at it, it will not budge. Quarter past six. Another 45 minutes until the bar opens. I’m too early, as is my wont.

Too early means too much time to think. I’m in a Subway opposite the only gay bar in Chelmsford, skillfully thinking my way into an identity crisis. What on Earth am I doing here, apart from over-stuffing myself with shitty sandwiches?

The obvious answer would be going on the pull. In the easy, standard scenario, I would meet girls and make friends and become the Brian Kinney (him again) of Chelmsford. Well, maybe more Michael…. but that’s of no relevance. I would be hot shit, let’s keep it at that.

But in this scenario, I’m not sure if it’s what I want. I’m not sure what I want overall, actually. I’ve been so sure of being queer for so long, but it’s starting to nag at me.

Once again, gender and sexuality come to bit me in the arse.

Everybody prides me on being so sure of what I want and who I am. But the truth is that I don’t know.

It’s the same thing with kink, I think. I enjoy being spanked but it does nothing for me sexually. I don’t want to call myself a “kinkster” because it doesn’t fit me. And more and more, I’m feeling disengaged from “queer” and all that surrounds it. It’s words. All words.

I guess that’s only too right. I’m 21, and I’m not supposed to know anything yet.

Some things are crystal clear and the rest is muddled in specs of gray dust. I’m 21 and already, I feel the need to set myself in stone, mainly because not having that security frustrates and annoys me. Some people have it all sussed out and I envy that. My mind works in overdrive, trying to figure out who I am.

I don’t know much about myself, but here are some things that I have figured out in the meanwhile.

I am…

Jilly. 21. Lady.

Creative. Messy chaos. Loves sex.

Feminist, on her own terms.

Likes crafts. Lover of good food.

Writer, butterfly brain.



Survivor (and still she suffers) of mental illness.

Lover of nature, quirky, lover of vintage and kitsch.

Unsure, sometimes insecure. Generally nilla.

In love with life, in medias res.

Dreamer, poet, sleepy girl.

Magic girl, dirty girl, bad girl.

Dancer. Romancer.

Cinephile, linguaphile.

Sapiosexual, geeksexual.

And still not sure if she belongs in that gay bar.




As I said, there is a follow-up on the way….

Previous Post
Leave a comment

1 Comment

  1. Trust me, those who “have it all sussed out” don’t – they are either deluded or lying or both. Life is constant learning. Oh, and apart from age your profile is scarily co-incident with the SO’s – I knew I’d done pretty well there…


Whisper to me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: