Anonymous

Photo by Alec Cohen

If you’re reading this, it’s okay to feel unsure.

            In high school, I was really confused. I was confused about schoolwork, confused about my place in the universe, but more familiarly, I was confused about a girl. She had a way of making me blush and stomach tighten in a way that was familiar and unfamiliar- a sensation easy to name yet difficult to understand.

For most of my childhood, I had been attracted to boys. The movie sleepovers, the code nicknames, the “tea-spilling” sessions had always been about boys. We’d giggle about the boy in our French class, about Orlando Bloom, and hang posters with One Direction smiling back at us. Yet as we watched Pirates of the Caribbean for the millionth time, I found myself not drawn to Will, but to Elizabeth. I loved her intelligence and cunning and striking features. I told myself this was admiration, but deep down, I knew that was a lie. Yet confusion stopped me from exploring my emotions. How could I be attracted to a woman when I had always been drawn to men?

Then, in high school, I developed feelings for someone real. I told myself I was just looking for a close friendship, but even then, I knew the lie was translucent. This wasn’t just friendship, not when her smiling at a joke occupied my thoughts for days. Not when I wanted to hold her hand that badly.

Yet fear and confusion held me back. I went to a strict school with a few teachers outwardly opposed to the LGBTQ community. I watched queer upperclassmen be treated more harshly than other students, be seen as guilty for a crime they never committed. As someone who barely understood my own identity, I felt scared. I feared exposing myself when I didn’t even know what it was I was exposing.

In college, I began to feel more comfortable in my identity. I found groups of diverse students who shared experiences similar to my own. With an overall stronger sense of self, I allowed myself to feel what had been hidden and communicate my thoughts with friends and family. I will forever have a crush on Keira Knightly, and I don’t care who knows it.

But the thing is… …love is still confusing to me. It’s confusing in the same way it’s confusing for everyone regardless of their identity. I still don’t know how to navigate dating or if I have a soulmate or if this entire “love” situation is a marketing scheme. However, I’ve learned to become more comfortable living in the unknown and understanding that it’s okay to be unsure. I know that I accept myself, and that’s all I really need.

Anonymous, University of Michigan

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