As a confused teenage girl on her journey of self discovery, there are many dreams in the back of my mind. Dreams of love, of acceptance, of purpose. Dreams where I can be myself and be truly known by my partner. Dreams where I can place my full trust in him/her.
I dream of taking a midnight car ride with a guy, stopping at the end of a long gravel road and sharing stories on the metal roof. He’d have his arm around mine and I’d lean my head on his shoulder, truly satisfied.
I dream of going on a long hike with a girl, laughing and talking and helping each other along the way. At the end we’d kiss, pressing our sweaty foreheads together in the evening sun.
My dreams may seem unrealistic. They might be asking too much. Maybe my sexuality is just too “complicated” for others to understand. How dare I burden my friends and family with the weight of this secret? How dare I push against the stereotype of hereto-normalcy and be a queer girl? How dare my preferences venture beyond a single option?
Do my dreams, my desires, make me a sinner? Does the want of love and a pure relationship make me a sinner? Does my lack of boundaries make me a slut? No. I’m a normal teenage girl. I can’t comprehend the lack of inclusivity that members of both the straight and queer community exhibit.
In the words of Madeleine L’Engle, one of the greatest YA sci-fi authors ever, “We have to make decisions, and we can’t make them if they’re based on fear.” Though I’m afraid to date a girl, I’m even more afraid of missing out on something beautiful. Though I’m afraid of eventually coming out, I don’t want to live my life in hiding. And who knows? Maybe I’m not really bisexual. Maybe I’m just curious. But I can’t wait till I’m 35 to find out.
All dreams deserve to be fulfilled. Either that, or I’ll die trying.