Personal Narrative-Homosexuality

Decent Essays
all my life, i've been told that i don't exist. pansexuality? it's a foreign concept to many, but for me, it's my entire reality. it's sewn into me with star-bright, skin-tight stitches, something i can't avoid seeing and feeling and having, and yet- yet other people can't perceive it, can't understand it, can't even begin to comprehend its existence. it's strange, really; sometimes i hate it for being a part of me, so complex and so obscure and so goddamn unknown, but i never have the heart to tear those threads apart- never. after all, it'd be like unravelling the fabric of my very own soul, uncurling the lifelines holding my very being together; and i can't do that, i can't get rid of what's already been woven into me from the beginning…show more content…
it had felt like the embodiment of stormy-grey, all raging tornados and furious turbulence within me, and it had felt like something had swollen up in my ribs, grazing at my organs till i was bleeding with crimson self-hatred on the inside. my lungs had felt knotted and fractured, somehow, as though there had been a brick tied to them dragging them down into the very pit of my stomach; and there had been a lump in the back of my throat, growing bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger till i'd been choking with it, unable to inhale, unable to…show more content…
still, no-one i associated with in real life was queer, and still no-one could truly understand what it felt like. still, i was detached and isolated and completely and utterly alone, and still i was stuck in a suffocating community of religious extremists and intolerant homophobes. so you can only imagine my ecstacy about a year after i'd come out, when A and i had been speaking into the night about god knows what- and then, and then she'd come out as pan too. as i write this, her coming out had only been a week ago, so it's almost burned into the back of my eyelids. i'd been fucking euphoric at the time, which wasn't so good, because whenever i'm happy, i tend to forget the details and feelings of a particular moment. luckily, at 5am, a delirious and joyful me had charged my phone and written it out, spilled my every sentiment onto a blank note-page, detailed the entire event in what it meant to me, all in the form of a narrative; after all, creative writing is one of my passions, and i felt a carnal longing to capture the beauty of that moment somewhere. and here it
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