When I Came Out...

I don’t really know why I’m writing this, haha, I’m listening to a particularly saddening song right now, thinking about life and such, crying my eyes out over a stupid comic I don’t even like that much and will probably forget about.

It’s eight a.m., because I live in Asia, and I’ve been up all night, so my memory probably won’t be very reliable. And I’ll probably collapse after finishing this, but I’ve got coffee, and that should keep me awake for about half an hour to give me time to write this thing.

So, let’s get started. It’s been a year since I fully came out. I’ve known since I was nine actually, had my first crush, but she went and moved to a completely different country, so that ship went and sailed, but more on that later.

Since that point, I’ve had about two “crushes” since. I probably would’ve had more, I probably have fallen hard for a few girls back then. But I can’t remember, because I was really depressed, contemplating killing myself, and such, and I was in a state of heavy denial. 

I never told anyone really, kept it silent for about three years. The terms “gay” and “lesbian” were big insults at my primary school, and since I was there for six years I began associating homosexuality with being the trash of your society. So for half my school life I went around feeling like shit.

Around the end of my last year of primary school did I fully come to accept myself, at first I thought I was bi, because I was twelve, lived a sheltered life, and had only gotten a meager facebook account that year, so I basically knew nothing about the world, internet, nor the many names for different sexual orientations. So I didn’t really know what label fit me best, and just went with bisexual because I did find men attractive, and I was confused.

That was also the year I got over my depression, found friends who didn’t take advantage of me and helped me come to terms with myself, even though they wouldn’t find out till two years later about my sexuality. 

When I was thirteen, and going through the process of transitioning to secondary school (Or highschool, whichever word you prefer,), I came into contact through the internet with the girl I had a crush on nearly four years before.

We ended up talking over facebook, MSN, emails, Skype, chatboxes, basically anywhere we could. I couldn’t believe my luck, meeting her after so long. And we were so common, likes, dislikes, our views on things. It didn’t take long for me to fall for her again. I love her, and still do.

But she was in Macau, and I was in Malaysia. I kept all hope for a relationship between us in a small box in the corner of my mind. After a year of this, one day, on Skype, she burst out crying and told me she was gay, and that she thought she loved me.

I was ecstatic, at first, I confessed to her as well, but we never dated. We came to an agreement, that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work out, we were only fourteen, our parents would never let us visit and we’d have to wait four to five years to ever hope to meet. The dream was unrealistic, and we never took the chance. Her father was extremely homophobic and her mother no better, both she and I were afraid if they ever found out about us.

So we never dated, but we still talked, and tried to go on with our lives as best we could. She remains as one of my best friends. Since then we’ve met many wonderful people together, a certain gay couple living together in London in particular.

That same year I identified myself as a gender-fluid pansexual, with a physical preference for women and an emotional preference for men, generally. And early that same year I came out, it’d be officially a year after in March, I can’t remember the date exactly, but the month was memorable.

Of course, telling people the definition of pansexual gets tiring after a while and I basically just told everyone I was bi. Which does mean I’ll have to come out again, but at least this time only to the people who are closest to me.

I started with my old primary school friends, since I’ve known them the longest, and I felt they should be the first to know. Most of them were really surprised, but were all genuinely accepting. They ask me all of the typical questions, like “how do you know”, or ”so are you sure?” but in a curious way, and it didn’t feel like they’re judging me at all.

One or two months after that, I told everyone who bothered to ask in my new school (I had transferred schools at the start of my second year of Secondary.), which was a lot harder than before, as I was going to a Christian school. I’m still here actually. My coming out here was a good experience for me, as I finally got out-right shunned for being pansexual (Or bi, as I told everyone.). 

I met many wonderful, accepting Christians, a few even bi or gay themselves, one of them was an Ace, and he was very helpful and kind. They taught me it was completely fine to be both religious and queer, an issue I had been struggling with until that point.

Then of course, the other side, where most of them were either disgusted, confused or very close-minded. No amount of explaining or arguing with these people was ever going to do me  any good. So I just stopped all together. They taught me that people like this were always going to exist, and that I can’t always change their mind.

I did manage to get one of my friends to become more accepting of transsexuals though, which is a proud achievement of mine.

And then we reach today, this new year, where I’ll turn fifteen in September. I still haven’t told my parents yet, as my mother is one of the most bigoted, radical, stereotypical religious nut I’ve ever met. I love her, I do, but she wont see eye to eye with me on this, I know she wont. So I want to wait till I don’t have any financial ties to her before I tell her.

I’m planning on telling my dad some time between this year and the next. Wish me luck!