Coming Out To My Best Friend

(This is the letter in which I essentially "come out" to my friend. Stuff has happened between us since then but that's for another story. Names have been changed to protect privacy and all that. I have not sent this letter to her yet and I'm not sure if I ever will. Please let me know what you think of it! Should I send it, should I not?)

Hey.

Okay, so here’s the letter I’m writing. I can’t actually believe I’m doing this, to be honest. Maybe I’ll never have the nerve to actually send this but here goes nothing. I did write the damn thing, didn’t I?

This just happened this morning from when I’m writing these words but who knows how long ago it was from when you’re reading them. (Or if you even are. Who ******* knows?) Do you remember when we were talking about relationships and guys and all that because you were going on your first real date? I told you part of the reason I was unhappy about it was because I wanted to talk to you about something and then (now) wasn’t a good time.
Well, this is about that thing. I’ll explain why and hopefully you’ll understand better if I write you a letter versus actually talking to you about it. I don’t think I have the stomach/courage for that. I’m a coward when it comes to talking to you about my feelings, in all honestly. I never seem to be able to tell you exactly what’s on my mind but that’s my problem, not yours. Especially because when I do, I can’t tell what you’re thinking half the time and that’s terrifying. You sit there, silent, always.

Where do I start? Well, at the beginning is probably best and you can try and follow my thought process here. It’s been confusing as hell. Whenever I talk to myself about this, I label it simply “the confusion.” I’m a bit melodramatic that way.

So, really early into my sophomore year I asked out my crush at the time, Matt. Well, this was before he became a total douche bag and now I’m kicking myself because of it. I don’t get crushes often, practically never. I can’t even remember why I started liking him in the first place. I was a dumb-*** freshman year/early sophomore year. As I’m sure you remember well.
So I asked him out and he said no. Obviously. Which was fine, but I was bitter about it for awhile. I started disliking all guys. They were all the same, all stupid, detestable creatures. Long story short, I was turned off liking guys for a long time after that.

Anyways, second semester sophomore year there was this girl in my gym class. You know her. She’s been in both our Spanish classes. Her name’s Kirstie. Well, I had no partner in gym class because I don’t really have friends besides you and the ones I do are better friends with other people. She and this girl named Hayley were on the volleyball team and they offered for me to join their group and we could just be a group of three.

This happened quite a bit. I really liked them both, but especially Kirstie. She was crazy athletic, pretty, and nice to top it all off. I was jealous of her, or at least I thought I was.

I wasn’t. I liked her. As in, I had a crush on her. A girl. Can you sort of tell where this is going now? God, I can’t believe I’m doing this, that I’m actually putting this on paper, let alone in a letter to show to somebody else.

It took me a long time to figure this out. At first, I would just look for her in the hallway or want really badly to be on her team in gym class, nothing really big. But at one point it occurred to me that I felt the same way about her as I did about Matt earlier. I won’t go into very much detail on this because there’s a lot of it I still don’t understand.

I was horrified once I figured it out. I got depressed and would lock myself away in my room. I tired forcing myself not to think about it and not to go down that road but I just couldn’t. As with any crush, she was all I could think about half the time. I was very good at making it seem as though nothing was wrong though. If you didn’t notice or if you did, I wouldn’t be surprised either way.

It never went any farther than a crush. How could it? I hated myself for even thinking about her. I never knew I could actually hate myself for something but for this, I did. Worse than that, there wasn’t anyone I could talk about it with. Who was I supposed to talk to? I had it in my head that if I mentioned this to anyone they would just tell me it wasn’t what I thought it was or I was just confused or who knows what. I didn’t want to hear any of that. I knew what I felt better than anyone else but at the same time, what I felt was a mystery to me.

Summer couldn’t have come soon enough. Once away from the school, I buried any thoughts of Kirstie away and never touched them again. It was simple enough to do because it was easy to forget about school and focus on summer. There were other things going on. I’d moved, we were working with Natalie for the first part of June, I had math and my driver’s license to worry about (and still do), transportation was a real problem, my sister was off to Belize, and I still wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Things were way too busy for me to care about some stupid little maybe-crush I’d had earlier in the year.

Sure enough, by the time we went back to school in August, I didn’t have the same feelings for her anymore. Imagine my relief at that, huh?

Then I joined GSA, mostly for activism work. It was a cause I cared about and on college applications I could put down how I was involved in a leadership role and had volunteered my time. I thought all the members would be butch-type lesbians. You know, what most people think of when they think “lesbian.” I wasn’t expecting May, our president at the time.

She was so beautiful. I told you she works as a model, right? Well, it shows. She’s really just unbelievably gorgeous. I really wanted to be with her and hold her hand and do all those things people normally do in a relationship. She was a girl and yet I was more attracted to her than I was to Kirstie or even than I was to Matt. I felt like I lost my ******* mind. Every meeting after the first one I always tried hardest to look my best in case I saw her. (She never comes to the meetings but still.)

I wasn’t so much in denial that time. I said to myself, “Hey, I like a girl. So what? It’s not like the world blew up or anything.” But it still felt just like it had on the inside. Who was I if I wasn’t me, “straightest” girl in the world me? I didn’t ******* know myself anymore. It was like my mind had betrayed me. Why couldn’t my thoughts just go along with my image of myself?

Anyways, in October I went down to my sister's college to visit her. I met Keith there and we got along really well. He was funny and just the right amount of perverted for me. He was interested in all the same things as me and really good-looking and basically everything that was supposed to be “perfect” for me. Well, he asked for my number and we started texting for a couple days. It was fun to flirt but when he asked me out I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. I figured out I wasn’t as interested in him as I thought I was. He was attractive, yes, but it wasn’t even close to the same kind of attraction I felt towards May.

Well, as you can imagine, by this time I was starting to question my sexuality. I couldn’t picture myself with a guy, any guy, like I could picture myself with a girl. Slowly when I listened to songs, I’d think of girls instead. When I watched movies, it was the cutest girls I’d pay attention to, not the guys. Shirtless men weren’t as appealing as they used to be when I actually thought about them, yet I could think about a cute girl for hours. Off the top of my head, Mila Kunis was particularly better looking than most.

So why, if all my family and friends are accepting of same-sex relationships, was (am) I so worried about telling them any of this? Well, that’s easy. I always got the impression that being gay was perfectly fine, just not for me. Going forward, you and my sister will most likely be the hardest to tell all this to.

Why my sister? Well, she makes it a point every time we’re together to point out the cutest guys or talk about guys with me or what not. She always jokes around when I talk about GSA or girls in general saying things like, “Oh wow. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” How am I, in all seriousness, supposed to say “Yes, actually, yes there is”? That’s just it. I can’t.

Why you? Well, for starters, you say all “girl parts” are gross (despite you being a girl.) For the record, that’s stupid. Probably the most telling is the fact that you won’t hug me. You’ll hug everyone else: Mom, Jan, my sister, Madge, June, everybody. But you won’t hug me. I’ve long thought about this and tried to come up with a reason why. My best running theory is it’s because we’re so close and you didn’t want people to think we’re gay. I may be totally off on that one but I can’t think of another reason why it’s just me you won’t hug. Am I a disease?

I was going to tell you all about my “confusion” but then this guy asked you out. Now I’m scared if I told you anything about this, you might think I have a crush on you or something and was only telling you because I was jealous of him. That’s why it (now, while I’m writing this) was a bad time to bring it up. I told you most of my problem had to with me and what I’m going through. It has nothing to do with you.

I joined a blog or two. If I can’t talk to people directly about this thing then maybe I could find some answers online? I’m still not sure what I am exactly but I’ve decided, at least for myself, that I don’t need a label. I can be anything I want to be. Sometimes, though, I hate society for making it so a person’s straight until proven to be gay. I’m not saying I’m one thing or another, just that I’m confused.

I hope this won’t make things weird between us. I’m still the same me I was before writing this letter and will always be me no matter what. I hope more than anything the truth will help our friendship. If it makes you uncomfortable or something, then I guess I could understand. It’d hurt, but I’d understand and I wouldn’t hold it against you. I know you won’t just stop being my friend or anything, but still. Saying **** like this is a lot scarier than it might seem. I couldn’t imagine being in a strict republican/religious household with this problem. I have a hard enough time telling the most wonderful people in the world.

Then again, admitting to everyone how I feel would mean I’m different. I really don’t want to be different. Not like this. I still hate myself for it and every time those accursed thoughts come up in my head, I want to scream and rip my hair out. No matter what I do, it won’t go away. I feel sick and probably will until I know what the hell I am and what the hell it means.

I’m sorry to be so confused and horrible but you are my best friend and you deserve to know. Secrets are just about the worst thing to put in a friendship.

Your Best Friend
Squirrelflight Squirrelflight
18-21, F
3 Responses Dec 6, 2012

How did it go? Hope it was okay xx

I thought this was an excellent letter. good luck

Thank you very much. I appreciate it. :)

If you ever need someone to talk to i am open to that :-)

it was a very looooong letter..maybe you spill out to her bit by bit..not everything at once..good luck..:)

This was more for me to organize my thoughts, not necessarily to send. Thank you, though.

ok..that was just a suggestion though..take care..:)