On the Lesbian Romance

Lesbian or bisexual, I do not know. But if you were to place me in either category at this precise moment I would surely fit perfectly into "Lesbian."
I dodged a bullet today. Her and I had planned to go on a date to a Chinese restaurant, more so because she insisted we meet. I painfully obliged. This morning I woke up wailing no's. No, I did not want to go. At 6:30am I sent her a text asking to meet at an unspecified "later," and apologizing for not feeling ready to meet her in person. She was kind, said it was ok, and asked why I was not ready.

Dear AWERTIHAG! She just texted me saying she LOVES me! What is this world coming to?!?!?!?!

I must disappear. Either I die, or she does.

My Privilage

I was born on this side of the border, across the river, past the mile-long lines of wooden crosses. My parents migrated for my sake, enrolled me in school to become educated and learn the language - the dominant language, the language which would provide me with a stable life; financially and emotionally. I would be their white daughter, light-skinned, intelligent, and modern, all the while, retaining tradition.
On our way back from the brown country into the white one, we sit for hours in our small van. Cramped, either too hot, or too cold, we wait to be questioned, searched, and let go. I may be light-skinned, but I lack the qualities of the whites.
A German-shepherd leads a Latino, sometimes Latina. We do not carry contraband, no one hides under the seats of the van. If the metal were to be peeled back, emptiness would be exposed. We are legal, we say, so why have we been detained? An hour later, our clothes unpacked, our food thrown out, we are allowed to enter into the Land of Opportunity.
My father is angry. One of our own questioned our sincerity. Latinos look out for other Latinos, he says, but not the ones in uniform and badge; they believe themselves pure Americans, and us simple browns are unworthy of their courteous behavior. Racistas, he murmurs.

I was born on this side of the border, I say, but where do I belong?