I always end up telling my coming out story too fast. I think because of how proud I am. Before 2012, I came out to my close circle of friends (one of them being Kenna) as bisexual. It was hard to even come out as bisexual because I already felt that many people had asked me if I was gay and I said no. I remember coming out as bisexual and people saying that they knew.

I mean it is one thing to assume that one is gay or bisexual, but being told that even when I was not even sure about it hurt. I believe I first came out as bisexual for two reasons: one being I wasn’t sure, and the other being I was too scared to be gay.

The moment after I told Kenna, we instantly checked out guys in front us. It was pure bliss.

As I was driving home one day with my mother, I told her I was a bisexual. “You’re a what?" she said. “I’m a bisexual; I like males and females," I said. “I don’t think that’s a thing," she said. I looked out the window and sighed. “You have to choose one, don’t be greedy," she continued. I rolled my eyes hard and looked down. After thinking about what she said and choosing only one, that seemed very silly to me. What if one likes both? What if it is not about the sex but purely about loving a person?

During the end of seventh and eighth grade, I began an online relationship with a boy from New Jersey. He was sixteen and dreamy. Not only was I severely depressed, I was also severely confused. I was not sure if I liked girls or not but this helped clear the question. Through countless FaceTime calls and letters in the mail, I came to a conclusion that I did indeed see myself with a male. He once sent me suicide hotline cards and $20 in the mail.
I bought pizza and kept the hotlines close. We talked for hours and I was always looking forward to talking to him. I was in love at the time, in a sense.

I realize now I was in love with the idea of being in a relationship more so than being in love with him. I remember hoping one day to lose my virginity to him. It was a fantasy. One that I wanted to come true.

The summer after eighth-grade year I decided to talk to a boy. A cute boy in the bus was somebody I was fond of. His name was Lucas. He was older and also out of the closet, which I found attractive. I messaged him on Instagram. “Hi, do you wanna hang out?" I said.

A long walk to a 7-Eleven was the most awkward meetup plan ever but it was the only activity to do. I was nervous but ready. Soon after, I had my first kiss with Lucas. I remember laying down on his chest in the field of a park near our houses. There were a lot of stars and no one was out beside us. He leaned over and kissed me gently while hugging me. I was so nervous but it felt so right and so genuine.

It was much different from being nervous and unsure. Like a time I tried to kiss a girl and failed, according to her.

Walking home, the first thing I had to do was call Kenna. The butterflies were real and fluttering hard.

I explained to her what had gone down and how excited I was to actually be talking to a guy in person. She started recording our conversation over the phone and I wish I still had it.

The rest of the summer I began a relationship with Lucas. We went on more walks and talked every day. It was nice. He was there for me and I was there for him.

Fast forward to the beginning of freshman year, I decided to finally take the plunge and come out as gay to my close group of friends. It was scary. Although I was scared, their reactions were perfect and made me feel like everything was okay. It was nice to join along with looking at rare attractive guys at our high school. Even after telling them, I was still very scared of what everyone else would think. Still being called a “faggot" did not help.

Through the time being, my relationship with Lucas continued. I decided the way I came out to everyone should be fast and quick. ‘Straight up’ as in making it known that we were together and that I was gay. I slowly introduced him to my friends. He became a part of my life but I still kept him hidden in a way. None of my family knew besides my sister.

We never talked about it and also she did not like him for reasons I did not know why at the time. I kept him a secret because he was older and scared to be gay. One day I was walking home from the bus and my mother and Joe (a cousin living with us at the time) witnessed me kissing Lucas. "Joe saw you kissing this guy behind the house." She said. "Behind the house?" I said. "Yeah, were you hiding?" She said. "NO!" I said. The conversation ended there. I did not really care what Joe had thought, but more so my Mother.

This brought on more questions involving being out.
Could I kiss him in public? Could I hold hands in public? What if I do not want certain people to know I am gay? Should this be a secret that we are in a relationship? Should I only talk about guys around certain people? Will I be looked down upon? Are my feelings valid?

These questions to this day haunt me. I remember shaking when even hugging him around people. It was scary to be known and established as a gay freshman. I was constantly surrounded by the fear of someone hating me or thinking I was weird for being gay. This kills me. No one should ever be scared to hold hands or kiss someone they like in front of anyone.

My freshman year came crumbling down by the end. I had failed most of my classes and was severely depressed. I have no idea why I became so sad. But I knew that I needed to be alone to work on myself, without the help of another. I was not sure if it was the best choice to break up with Lucas…until one night when he left me at the park because I would not stop crying. BOOM!

I am not sure if most people know when they should and should not be in a relationship, but I think I did. I guess that is where the whole “it’s not you, it’s me" saying comes from.

Throughout the next two years, I was single and it felt so good. Not only was I exploring my gay self, I was finding out what made me happy. I am now okay with being seen with a guy on anything or anywhere.

I do not care what others think about me being gay. I am okay with others not accepting me and not being upset about it. I simply will not have them in my life (they obviously do not love me).
I do not feel scared or worried about being different.

I do not think about the questions I once had. I think about the relationships I will have, and the people I will meet who will love me and accept me like I learned to accept myself.