This couldn’t be me. I never thought this is how I would turn out. Not me. 7th grade me was not ready for a change that would twist my view of the world and other people forever, causing me to see the true corrupt souls of those around me. I was an uncomfortable kid— one with body issues, mental issues, problems with being bullied, the works. A kid that was not ready to realize that she was already what she was deathly afraid of being. An outcast. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was, and there was nothing she could do about it.

I was gay. I am gay. Figuring out my attraction was focused on both genders and not just solely boys was a shock to me. Sure, I had always supported the LGBTQ+ community, believing everyone should be loved, and deserves love, but I never thought I would be part of it. This just added on to my feelings of being uncomfortable and an outcast within my own skin and community. My immediate surrounding were always generally supportive of the community, but Texas can be a brutal place to live when trying to accept yourself, gay or not. There are stereotypes you are forced into and expected to uphold, as well as generally high expectations from family and peers due to the bubble of comfort we live in— economically, socially, and educationally.

I didn’t know how to act anymore— around my family, friends, classmates, even myself— but I had to figure it out. I didn’t want people to know, not because I was shameful of it, but because I was afraid of what people were going to say about it. Would they be okay with it? Would their perception of me change drastically? Would I suddenly be considered scum of the earth to them? I didn’t know, and that scared me. Heightened my fear of being an outcast.

The anxiety ate at me until I knew I had to tell someone before it left me as a pile of bones. I chose my two best friends, one of which I was with at the time and one I FaceTimed. I had an idea of how they would react, but that was only a hypothesis that was yet to be proved. It went generally as I had expected with the friend I was with, she said she loved me and that wouldn’t change either way, that this part of me was just another part of me that she wanted to get to know. My other friends response was drastically different.

Why? How? Aren’t you a Christian? Why would you choose to commit a sin? This goes against everything God says is right, how could you believe it’s ok? And I don’t know! I don’t know why this is me. I didn’t choose this, i chose to acknowledge it. Why would i choose to feel disgusted with myself? Feel like everything i do is wrong? Why would I choose to feel outcasted by those around me? But I didn’t say any of that. “I don’t know,” I said. I laughed it off, maybe it’s just a phase. “I’m probably just understanding my feelings wrong, maybe it’s like a friend crush,” I don’t want to— can’t— lose my best friend. “I’m sure it’ll pass,” I reassured him, I don’t want to be an outcast.

So every feeling I felt became a distant memory in the back of my mind, deserted as tears on my pillow during the late hours of the night, given one last thought as the soft illumination of my closet light refracted off of them, but were forgotten by the end of the timeless night, replaced with fakes as the militaristic structure of the day began. My new morning routine became sewing my lips shut and plastering on my fake smile of choice, creating fake light in my eyes by drip dropping eyes drops into them, and throwing an angels laugh out of my decaying lungs when it seemed appropriate.

This time I did know what I was doing.

I chose to fake everything I felt to my family, friends, myself. I chose to forge walls built upon lies and deceit— and fill all the cracks with my fear— just to protect myself. But building walls so high and thick can cause you to lose sense of who you once were without those walls.

No one else knew for many years, the lost little girl still hiding somewhere within the confinement of those walls. But the older I got the harder it got to hide, to fake. And the older I got the more I learned about life. I learned that it’s not the job of others to make you feel loved and validated. I learned that before anyone else can love you, you have to love yourself, and that’s what I’ve spent the last year and a half doing. Understanding that not everyone is going to love or accept you, and you can’t control that. The only thing you can control is loving yourself. 

After I felt more comfortable in my skin I began telling people around me. Not my family, for that was a terrifying obstacle I would face another day, but my closest friends, and I realized my fear was insignificant. Most of my closest peers support and love me for who I am. On Halloween last year I told my best friend of almost 15 years and all he said was, “Does this mean we can talk about girls together?” And that one sentence was one of the most reassuring comments I had heard since I started coming out to people. It solidified the fact that everyone may not accept me, but at least I’m surrounded by people who do. I finally came out to my family later that year and I haven’t been as happy as I am now in years.

I’m not a perfect person, and I have my bad days, but overall I’m happy with where I am now. I’m comfortable in my skin, confident in what I do , and surrounded by supportive people every day. Maybe me being a bisexual isn’t accepted by everyone, but to me and the people around me, I am just me. A happy, confident girl who’s finally learned to love herself, and they can never take that away from me.