By RosaKayleigh
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I've known I'm bisexual for almost two years now - when I figured out what I felt for the girl I considered to be my best friend was more than friendship. What she and I shared seems a little cheesy to describe now that I think about, since neither of us outright said that we weren't heterosexual to each other. We just kind of knew. I remember our first kiss - that first night where we acknowledged the months of mucking about in class were more than just a pair of crazy friends - at a concert for a rock band we'd only realised the other liked less than a week before. I remember the early hours of the morning, under the streetlights in the unseasonable warm January weather, both wearing high-heeled boots, black lace and leather jackets. Maybe we were drunk that night. We definitely weren't drunk every time after that. And I'm never going to forget everything we shared over those six sweet months.
Perhaps it was my fault for failing my law a-level. Perhaps it was the fault of my lecturer, who didn't teach my law class the relevant topic, causing the whole class to fail. She got into the university she wanted, in our home town. I didn't. The only one that would accept me being almost 200 miles from home, and I took the place. My certainty we could handle the distance because we were meant to be shouldn't have existed, considering my experiences with my ex-boyfriend and how our long distance relationship ended in tears. For the second time in a little over a year, I found myself dumped because someone else didn't want a long-distance relationship.
Was I hurt? Yes. Had I loved her? Also yes.
At university, I seemed to make friends quickly, and started to do things I'd always wanted to do. I was accepted for who I am, and no one singled me out for my sexuality, which I made no attempt to hide. It's a part of me, and a true friend would like me because of that.My friends know me so well. I can't thank them enough for dealing with my moodswings and drama. I owe so much to their support and hope like hell that I tell them often enough.My family, on the other hand? My family have no idea about my sexuality. I've never come out to them. I can't see how my brother isn't aware, since we were part of the same friendship group and some of the same classes at college. We're very similar people, and I'm certain that somewhere, he knows. At the very least, he's witnessed some of the interactions she and I had.The rest of my family. Well. On some level, I think my mother must know as well, since I'm pretty sure she's known things about me before I've been aware of them myself before. I know my sister would understand. But my father? My grandfather? My grandmother? The people who go on about the prestige of our family name and our legacy? Anything less than their idea of heterosexual perfection is unacceptable and wrong. It wouldn't even occur to them that I may not be heterosexual, considering I've had boyfriends before. They wouldn't know how to handle it, and I don't think I'll ever know how to tell them.
And while I'm here - I still miss her like crazy. I still think about her all the time. Asking mutual friends how she's doing still hurts. But if how she's made me feel has taught me anything, it's don't take anything for granted: if you love someone, tell them.
To anyone else hurting right now, I feel for you. But we'll all get through it somehow, and be stronger for it. I believe in you, even if it to you, I'm just some stranger on the internet. I've got your backs, the way my friends have mine. We'll be strong enough through supporting each other, and I intend to figure out how to come out to my family when I next see them all.
Support each other, and we'll always get by.