Miku Fat Blunt
I don’t exist.
“Bisexuals don’t exist,” I tell myself as I slip between the molecular bonds of the steel bulkhead and appear in the room beyond.
They said I wasn’t real, that my feelings were just the confusion of a gay man waiting like a crysalid to burst into fabulous flight.
Jokes on them. Their false binary thinking now lets me rob banks and watch movies for free.
I stuff my backpack full of fresh new twenties and march right out of the vault and into the lobby.
“I contain within myself the capacity to love and find attraction in both men and women,” I inform them all. They question my feelings, my thought, and my attractions. But none think to question the duffel bag over my shoulder.
I back through the door as one of the tellers regales her customer with the story of that lying bitch from college that test drove her heart.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade they say.
When life gives you invisibilty, rob banks. That’s what I say.
Paging @angela-craft
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