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The Unfinished Story of Me

By , Deltona, FL

My life felt as if I was walking down a hallway. I was going to live a life going from A to B. It was a hallway that almost everyone goes down so it must be right. But what are these doors? Can I go in them? What does the rooms behind those doors look like? Though my thoughts and questions are always pushed back and I'm always pushed forward. Oh, yeah I need to get to B. Though there was days when I didn't want to get to B but rather see what's behind those doors. So one day I did and I never looked back because I wasn't meant to find B, no I was meant to C even if a lot of other people didn't look for it.

 

 I was little when I first felt that I was different. I would play with my brother and hate when people told us to not rough house because I was a girl. I wanted to scream and say I was boy but then realized I couldn’t that would be wrong and I would be corrected quicker then I said it. Then when I went to school I would hang out with girls and boys. I couldn’t get along with the girls well because I wasn’t girly and I couldn't get along with the guys well because I wasn’t a boy. I wasn’t born one. Somedays I was really girly and would blend in with the girl group, and sometimes when me and my friends would play I felt disgusted that I was labeled and girl and called my name. As I started to get older I felt like I was nothing sometimes like not one gender was me, sometimes I felt like I could be both.

 

Now we need to backtrack. When I was little and in preschool I would pick on guys because girls were gross back then. I would act just like a guy but my best friends was a guy and girl. I really liked the guy he was a great friend but I also really liked the girl. I also had the strange weirdness that I wanted to kiss her and him.

 

As I got older I couldn’t explain the feeling in my chest. When I looked at someone who was cute no matter what gender I would be speechless and it felt like I couldn’t breath. I knew that these were weird feelings so I ignored them and just kept both boys and girls at a distance along with keeping my feelings of my gender under wraps.

 

I was a girl. I was born a girl. Girls liked guys that’s what I’ve always been taught. That’s what I’ve always been told and anything besides that was never spoken about.

 

I became depressed at the age where you should be happy because you're finally a double digit. I remember not knowing why. Why did feel like my heart was crushed and my brain was being turned off. Like I was just sluggish moving throughout the day. I debated for hours over if I should take my life.

 

Sometimes just thinking about my life I would cry till there’s nothing left. When I saw my parents it felt like I was being ripped apart, piece by piece because they were the ones that told me that guy married girls and vise verse. When they yelled at me for even the slightest of things I would get overly mad and upset.

 

I’m not blaming them for everything no that would be wrong. I was more upset that I was going to let them down and disappoint them. All I’ve ever wanted to be was a perfect daughter and yet I felt like I was going to be their mistake. I was there last and didn’t want to make them feel like maybe they shouldn’t of have me because they already had the perfect pair. A girl and boy. There was no need for another girl but I didn’t agree with the gender on my birth certificate.

 

I was growing up of course, so you learned about things. I was taught about the birds and bees as some may call it even though I knew about it already but thing is I was told the straight person speech. I learned what gay meant at some point in my life. Though it didn’t mean it was acceptable in my house. They were fine with people being gay and lesbian and transgender as we grew up but you had to choose. What was this thing about being bisexual or pansexual? That’s not right. Right?

 

Whenever they talked about it not being right and that you had to choose I would grow silent and I never knew why.

Pretending to be someone else was fun back then.

I would look in the mirror sometimes and be mad because I couldn’t change who I was or become someone different. I would call myself a monster. I felt like I was chained to standards and drowning in misery and pain. Death you should be scared of it but I smiled at it.

 

It was middle school when I came to terms with who I was. By then I have came to only befriend a few people even though I could get along with almost everyone. My parents told me I had changed and that I should stop acting like someone else but what they didn’t know is that the person they did know wasn’t me. I remember I screamed at my Mother telling her that she didn’t love me. Of course I was made up with her but I cried because she only loved the parts I showed her. Always holding back and not wanting to slip was hard.

 

Was showing them my good parts only, bad? To be their perfect daughter I didn’t want to show them the parts of me that I hide ever since a very young age. When I learned that the slightest slip of the tongue could embarress my parents or spoil something. Sometimes I wished I could sew my mouth shut. I became shy and distant to everyone in front of anyone. They don’t know who I really am and sometimes I break. Letting the real me show. Heck I don’t even think my friends who I knew for the longest of times know the real me. Some remember the innocent me, please don’t make me remember that charade.

 

Middle School where you meet new people. There was the bad boys that I always loved because they looked fun and I would love to find their soft spots. Sounds crazy right? Not really when I act like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Making myself seem innocent with a hint of mess with me and you won’t walk correct for a week. I loved a challenge someone who could be as crazy and intimidating as me.

 

But they found my weakness cute, innocent like girls. They made me melt. I was more protective over them then anything and would snap at people who messed with my friends that I couldn’t really put my feelings in the right place. Still I didn’t admit that I was anything but a straight girl.

 

Then I met a guy. Someone who wasn’t scared to tell people they weren’t straight but instead happy to be them. I didn’t want to admit it but he opened a part of me that I locked away.

 

It was in also Middle School when I first told someone that I was bi. I told my brother. Why him? Well because rather than judging me I knew he wouldn’t. We have had many talks like this. Back and forth. I didn’t feel like eyes were on me and I couldn’t speak. I knew that he was probably the first person I could talk to him but in all honestly I feel that it came out as an accident.Though it was the best accident ever.

 

Next I told a friend. Why did I tell a single friend out of my tight group of friends is because she told me that if one of her friends was lesbian she wouldn’t care. When I told her it felt like a weight was lifted of my shoulders, my heart felt light. I felt that in a long time that my head was brought to the surface in a long time.

 

I told my next friend who was probably more happier then me. I didn’t remember the last time I felt so happy. I told the next person then the next. It became easier each time.

 

Lastly to date the last person I told I was bi was my sister and she said she didn’t care who I loved as long as they made me happy. She said I could marry an alien.This was my funniest time telling someone I was bi.

 

It felt good to tell people bi. I wasn’t hiding another part of myself. Now I think about how I looked at the people who called me my name in disguise or why I hated my looks. I started to call myself a guy name. When my family asked why or even my friends I would say I was shorting my name even though it didn’t make sense why because if you shorten my name it doesn’t make the name I was using.

 

Then I admitted it after being sturborn for so long. I’m genderfluid. This idea came across my mind when I was younger but I shrugged it off as me just ranting. To come face to face with the parts of me that I didn’t even know about myself just shows how good I am at hiding myself.

 

So I am genderfluid and bisexual and I can never be anything but me. I will have to tell countless of people who I am and I’m prepared to face rejection from them. Though I asked myself the famous and yet infamous question. Would I change who I am, if I could? The answer is always no because I’ve never been happier til I came to terms with who I am. 




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