Dear 15-Year-Old Me: A Letter to My Queer Younger Self

Author.....shahjhan

Right now, you're probably staring into the bathroom mirror again, wondering why your reflection doesn’t feel quite right. Not just how you look — though, yes, you’re still trying to figure out your style (trust me, the skinny jeans and hoodie phase won’t last forever) — but wondering why there’s this buzzing ache in your chest every time someone talks about crushes, proms, or who they're “into.”

You’ll never say it out loud. Not yet.

You’ve already heard the whispers in the hallway. The words they toss like weapons — “gay,” “dyke,” “freak” — not because they know your truth, but because they sense your difference. And you've learned quickly that silence is safer than honesty. So you laugh at the jokes. You shrink yourself to fit in. You stay quiet when they ask who you like.

I see you. And I know how heavy that quiet can feel.

Let me start by saying this: you are not broken.

You're not confused. You're not being dramatic. You're not going through “a phase.” You are queer, and that word — the same one that feels sharp and dangerous when others say it — will one day feel like home when you claim it for yourself.

But right now, I know you're scared. And it makes sense. Because nobody around you is out. Nobody on your favorite TV shows looks like how you feel inside. The only stories you’ve heard about people like you end in loneliness, violence, or whispered family shame. No one tells you that queerness can be joyful. That it can be powerful. That it can be... ordinary.

Here’s what I wish I could tell you, face to face:

In a few years, you’ll meet people who don’t just accept you — they celebrate you. Friends who will hold your hand during Pride marches. Partners who will kiss you like you're the best thing that ever happened to them. Mentors who will remind you that you don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you are. You will laugh harder, love deeper, and feel more alive than you ever thought possible.

You’ll also learn that coming out isn’t a one-time thing. It’s something you’ll do over and over — sometimes casually, sometimes nervously, sometimes even proudly. And every time you do, you’ll get a little stronger. A little lighter. Like you’re peeling off layers of someone else’s expectations to make room for your own truth.

I won’t lie to you — not everything gets easy. Some people you care about won’t understand. Some will say hurtful things out of ignorance or fear. A few will leave. That will hurt, deeply.

But in tir absence, new people will arrive. Better people. People who see you clearly and love you because of who you are, not in spite of it.

You'll also stop trying so hard to be one thing. One label. One tidy explanation. You’ll learn to live in the in-between. In the fluid. In the grey areas that make life interesting. You’ll realize that queerness is not a trap or a limitation — it’s a lens, a language, a liberation.

One day, someone younger will come to you with the same questions you’re asking now — eyes wide with fear and hope. You’ll be ready. You’ll sit with them, listen to them, and tell them what I’m telling you now:

> You are not alone. You are not weird. You are not too much. You are exactly who you are meant to be.

And that closet you’re in? It’s not just about secrecy. It’s about safety. You’re doing what you have to do to survive in a world that doesn’t always make room for difference. And survival is something to be proud of, too.

But when you’re ready — and I promise, one day, you will be — you’ll walk out of it. Step by step. Light will hit your face in a way it never has before. You’ll take a deep breath and realize you’re still you. Only freer.

And the first time someone says, “I see you,” and really means it? You’ll cry. Not because you’re sad, but because finally — finally — someone understands the language your heart has been speaking this whole time.

So keep going, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

You are brave. You are beautiful. You are loved — fully, fiercely, and without condition.

I’m so proud of you already.

With every bit of love we never thought we’d deserve,

Your future self