Once there was a girl who just wanted to be herself. Problem was, she didn't really know who that was.
Sometimes she liked boys. Sometimes she liked girls. Sometimes she liked both. And sometimes she didn't really have any desire at all.
For a long time I figured you had to be one thing.
I couldn't be straight - because sometimes I like girls. I couldn't be lesbian - because sometimes I like boys. I couldn't be bisexual - because sometimes I only like either girls or boys, or don't like either.
So where did that leave me? Not talking about it, that's where.
Over the years, though, I started to realise something:
You don't have to fit neatly into a box that someone else has made.
I'm sexually fluid. Sometimes I like girls. Sometimes I like boys. Sometimes I like both. Sometimes I'm not attracted to anyone.
I'm both all of the labels, and none of them. And somehow that feels so right. Like I found something I hadn't even known I'd lost.
This article by Lane Moore is one of the only things I've seen which sums how I feel up pretty accurately. True, not 100% accurately, but that's because me and Lane Moore have different names in our undies ;) (Basically, people are not the same as each other. #TrueStory.)
So, now that I'd figured that out? I had to tell people.
Of course, it wasn't telling just anyone I was worried about - I don't care about a lot of people's opinions - it was telling my best friend, and my parents, that worried me.
You possibly know this - if you've spent any time on this blog anyway - but I have depression and anxiety. It's the anxiety that comes into play at this point.
Anxiety is a b**ch. And even though I'm a lot better than I've been in a very long time, mental illness will take the things you're naturally a little worried about... and twist the sh** out of them.
I don't want to milk it or anything - but coming out while my anxiety is screaming at me that my family will hate me and throw me out (totally not true by the way, but anxiety/depression logic sucks)?
While adrenaline is pumping through me, and making something nerve-wracking into something that requires a fight-or-flight, life-or-death, response?
It's actually very difficult.
Oh and, funny thing (or not so funny, really,) when the adrenaline starts to drain out? Haha, yeah... I thought legs giving way only happened in books and films.
Thankfully my father was hugging me so tightly that he was keeping me upright all by himself, because I sure as hell wasn't helping.
It felt like beneath my knees were just stilts or something instead of shins and, y'know, feet.
Honestly, I'm glad I managed to get the words out when I did - it felt like in five more minutes my heart would've given out too.
Sometimes it's damned hard to be who you are.
When I was younger, I used to act like I wasn't as smart as I am. Even with the amount I managed to dial-down my natural me-ness, kids still thought I was weird. No-one wants to be the weird kid that people stare at.
If I had let myself be the full extent of myself? The staring would only have gotten worse. I didn't realise though, that the price you pay for that is your happiness.
It got to the point where if you'd asked me, I would've told you that I was honestly trying my hardest in school. Because as far as I knew, I was.
I'd sealed several parts of myself off so tightly that I didn't even know they were there any more.
So now? I'm going to let myself be smart, be eccentric, be sexually fluid. Be me. Because that's all I ever wanted in the first place.
A huge thanks to everyone on Twitter who's sent me such lovely messages this week. You guys are all amazing :)
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