Not Knowing Who I Am
I first fell in love with my friend, we'll call her Leah, when I was in the seventh grade. How did I know I was in love with her, you ask? Well, I couldn't tell you, 'cause I just knew something was different when I was around her. The only person who knew I liked her was my other friend, we'll call her Haley, who was my confidant. I mustered up the courage to tell Leah that I liked her one day. Her response? Pure shock with a little bit of disgust mixed in. She never talked to me after that, but I knew something was different about me after I realized I was in love with her. So, I did what any thirteen-year-old did and told my mom I thought I was bisexual. Her response? "It's probably just a phase, Stacy." I didn't know any other way to respond to that, so I just agreed with her and pushed the idea of being bi into the back of my mind, slowly forgetting about it. With the idea of being not straight as a phase, I strictly dated guys throughout the rest of middle school and my freshman year of high school, but still struggled with my sexuality because some girls still piqued my interest.
