An Open Letter To Who I Was Before Posting This

An apology for people who I have deceived into thinking they know me.


Growing up, I drank a lot of chocolate milk before bed. I sipped through the chewed part of the straw connected to my “cuppy” until it was so gross; my mom slyly had disposed of the chewed up chunk of plastic. However, I loved “my cuppy,” it stayed stationary between my lips every night before bed. I would bounce it up and down with my front teeth as it dangled out of my mouth; it always had a place.

Before bed, my mom would also shove one of those chunky rectangular VHS tapes into the little box on my dresser. My TV belched out the movie Ice Age on the screen… almost every night. This movie painted an image in my brain that one day the world would either drown me in water or it would just simultaneously combust. I never said anything, I never told my parents that this was scarring me. I kept my chocolate milk in place and I watched the TV in fear, every single night. I sipped my chocolate milk while the anxieties were harvesting themselves into my nerves and etching themselves into my mind.

When I was around the age of ten, I feared that one day the sun would not rise. We had learned about the food chain in school; the importance of the sun. We could not survive if the sun didn’t keep the grass growing and the animals fed, or the trees growing and the oxygen in our lungs. Every night, I would fall asleep while drowning in my own fear that I took the sun for granted that day. In the most innocent way, I would be so grateful for the sun shining through my windows and waking me up. I would smile just because the grass would grow today, the trees would give me oxygen, and the animals would be fed.

When I was twelve, I started middle school. Everyone had already gotten boyfriends and started cliques. I grew curious; I had never looked at someone and thought they could be a potential candidate for “who can I force to take selfies with me and hug after 4th period?” I met someone in French class… I thought he was funny. We grew super close and we would contact each other every single day over our iPod touch apps. We were together for quite some time… we talked up until we started our high school journey. We had made plans for high school together, however, we were more friends than anything (we hugged maybe… twice?) we loved each other as friends. I wondered how this was possible, how could you spend so much time talking to someone and not feel anything? The idea of falling in love with him was all I really could fall in love with. I wanted this to work, I wanted to feel something.

When I was in the 9th grade, I had been on and off with a new guy. I cared about him… it didn’t work out. I had moved onto doing my thing with my friends and forgetting about the entire idea of falling in love. I was young and it would eventually happen. I tend to cling to things that make me curious. I kissed a couple guys this year, out of curiosity and alcohol. I felt absolutely nothing, I was so confused why everyone was so into this… maybe I was missing something. I was incapable of giving my love to another human being. I was a monster.

When I was freshly 18, I decided to come to terms with this. Majority of my friends had moved onto being with their boyfriends and relationship drama. A lot of my friends had been having sex, I had kissed a few boys… 3 years ago. This determined me to find out why I wasn’t working, why I was not like the rest of them. Courage is a word of only 7 letters, however, it seems to be the hardest for me to swallow. I am not attracted to men. I had been so caught up in trying to figure out why I felt nothing, I disregarded the fact that I loved Katy Perry too much and Avril Lavigne was my celebrity wife.

I have feared many things, big and small. However, these last words have been the hardest to stretch my fingers to on the keyboard. I am so entirely homosexual.

Closets were made for clothes, not for struggling teenagers.

//mm