I told Ivy that I loved her three times, and that was three times more than I ever told my mom, even if the last two were really meant for her.
Some people say that a girl looks her whole life to find a man just like her father, or if not that, then a man she wishes her dad had been. Maybe that was Ivy's deal. I wasn't making it up when I said that she probably was so sexy because she wanted his attention. She wanted any attention, and she knew how to get it.
Maybe, I was looking for a woman just like my mom, and I found her, and so did my dad. I'll never forget the moment that I saw them together, even if it is all confused in my mind, and overlaid with my hallucinations.
I really did love her. Before Ivy, I had told my mother, once, that I was a lesbian. I didn't really mean it then; I think. Maybe, it was seeing the man that my father had become that had soured me on the masculine half of the species, but instead, I like to think that it was always going to be that way. Though, in my more philosophical moments, I just think that Ivy spoiled me for them. Even if I will never separate her truths from her lies, in the easy way that she saw through all of mine, she was the first woman to kiss me, to hold me in her arms as I slept, and to make love to me as if nothing else existed in all of the world. I can't forget those moments any more than I can separate them from the reality of what she had become – or maybe always was.
She was the loneliest person that I have ever known – lonelier than even me, but when we were together, no one else in the world needed to exist for me.
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