Something I submitted for a zine but never heard back about

So, I don't cry. Not easily at least. Usually I go months without crying. Not for lack of wanting or trying. There are so many things that make me /want/ to cry, too many to list here, but chief among them the hopelessness of my own life. I have spent nights with my face buried in a pillow, shouting into it, "Cry, damn you," but I just can't seem to. The only things that really make me cry are happy things, like when a partner does something that makes joy bloom in my heart. This is pretty rare, I can go days without even smiling.

Crying is an emotional release, one I desperately wish I had more access to. I'm sullenly envious of the girls who say they cried all day. I wish I could do that, to release this heavy burden on my heart. I can't, though. My face remains slack and my eyes remain dry. I can't cry. I can tell you what makes me hurt, but I can't tell my face that.

Maybe it's the childhood of isolation, maybe it's all the time I spent denying my own feelings, but whatever it is, my ability to cry is broken. Even writing this, I want to cry, but it brings me no tears. I remain stolid, stoic, seemingly-unfeeling. I am so jealous of your tears. So don't curse them, hold them to be something sacred. Because they are. You can feel and you can cry and that, to me, is a wonder. If you can cry, cry for me. Thank you.

Short story I was working on, but have since abandoned

“Ours is a story not told.” (too dramatic, but lampshade it?) I surveyed the room as I said this.

Meeting in the laundry room of the same apartment building. Awkward fumblings and getting to know yous.

If we had sex, would I still be a lesbian?
I think so -I turn and look away- but some people don’t think so, they think I’m a man

Shh shh shh, I don’t think you’re a man.
Do you think I’m a woman?
Of course I do, I always have. Ever since I first saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I’m not beautiful

Don’t say that

Well, I’m not

Don’t say that to me

Why not

Because that’s really how I see you

How could you? I’m so hideous.

-she traces a finger along my cheekbone- No

I am

-she grabs my hand away from where they’re twisting knots into my hair and holds them together- No. Listen to me

-I look away-

Listen to me. You’re not ugly. I do like you. Here, let me kiss you again

-she guides my face back to hers with her hand. tears are streaming down my face, but my lips meet hers and it’s like drinking the nectar from a thousand blossoms-

They start fooling around again

Can I touch it?
You can, I hope you don’t get grossed out.
No, I wouldn’t -she puts her hand down my pants-

It’s just different, I haven’t touched one of these before.

It’s gross, I’m sorry

-she takes her hand out of my pants and rests it on my jawline. I look back at her-

No, it’s just different. Something new. That isn’t bad.

I want to do it

You do?

Just take off your clothes
-I take everything off but leave my panties on-

Really?