No wait, really I am.
I’m sorry you don’t understand. When you first asked me, “Well, how long have you known? It must be forever. You must have always known,” I was hurt. I’m not an Oprah guest, this isn’t some show on A&E, and I don’t have a microphone in front of my face. This was a conversation that I was bursting at the seams to have with you five weeks in. I wanted to tell you right away – why wouldn’t I want to share with you that my biggest fear has been overcome? That’s right. I can feel love, and it can be mutual. I’m not completely damaged because of hurting someone else. I’m not cold and dead inside. I’m sorry you don’t understand. No, I don’t want to have sex with my best friends. Please don’t be so ignorant (and I don’t mean that in a bad way.) Think about it. If you have a friend of the opposite sex, then you’re being hypocritical with that sentence. I’m not attracted to all women or all men…neither are you, neither is anybody. So understand that the love I feel for my girlfriend is singular. There may be other women in the world that I could fall in love with; I’m sure there are as many men as well. It doesn’t mean I want to date them. I’m sorry you don’t understand. I wish you would take back when you asked me to remove my blog, Facebook, and Twitter accounts. The things that weren’t a bother to you before were suddenly terrible – why? Because your daughter is in love with someone else’s daughter? That’s not fair. I won’t cower or fade away. I’ll do the opposite, in fact. I’ll talk about who I am and how I feel about my life because there’s probably another girl or boy out there who feels the same way and can’t find someone to relate to. I’m sorry you don’t understand.
I’m sorry you’re so hurtful. I wish you didn’t feel the need to run your mouth. You were supposed to be a friend – so much for that. You have known me for so long. You cannot come to me with questions about me? You need to ask my ex-fiance about my sexuality instead of me? Why would he have the answers to that? Why would you put someone back into a dark place like that – why would you do that to both of us?! I am shocked, appalled, and embarrassed for you. High school was so long ago. I’m sorry you’re so hurtful. I wish you didn’t have poison spewing from your deepest insides and out of your mouth, saying such awful things about me. About the ones I love. About who I am. So much for the fond memories – the sleepovers, the nights spent telling each other we’d always be there for one another, the days of watching TV laying in each other’s laps saying we couldn’t wait to be in each other’s weddings…so much for it all. You left them out in the sun to spoil. I’m sorry you’re so hurtful. I wish you were aware that the bar was filled with my mother’s co-workers when you screamed “See ya later, lesbian!” after me out the door. My family has nothing to do with my sexuality, but thanks for involving them in such a hurtful way. And by the way, asking me if I’d like to have a threesome with you a couple hours later isn’t exactly an apology. Neither is a “fuck you” text. I’m sorry you’re so hurtful.
I’m sorry you won’t forgive me. I didn’t know this would happen. I can’t help walking into a room, seeing someone, and feeling like my heart was jump started from a lull it didn’t ever wake from beforehand. I wish I could change so many things, but that’s the past. I try very hard to keep our memory in a very safe, very tight compartment in my mind. It’s locked away in a protected box, and the harshest of words and the evilest of thoughts cannot penetrate it. Those are the memories that can’t be harmed from the foul things you’ve said, or the heart I left blown to bits. I’m sorry you won’t forgive me. I had so many chances to leave, but I didn’t. I thought being in love and caring for someone’s well being were the same thing, and I’m sorry you had to be with me to find out that isn’t the case. I wish you all the best but I also hope that I never see you again. It’s not that the memory is too hurtful, it’s that I feel like I have something to be guilty for when I don’t. I’m sorry you won’t forgive me.
I’m sorry I make you nervous. I don’t mean to. I want to love you wholly and selflessly and that can be hard sometimes. I let my ego stand in the way and I don’t want to. I want to take care of you the way you’ve taken care of everyone you’ve ever loved before. I hope you let me. I’m sorry I make you nervous. I want to push through the struggles and I want to brush away any pain because you are so worth it. It’s not too many women who give me such power, strength, and challenge. I appreciate that. I’m sorry I make you nervous. I think when I write things like this or say them out loud to others, it makes things very abrupt and real. Sometimes I wish I knew of a different way to express my feelings, but my fingertips can only handle learning so much guitar before they start to spasm. I’m sorry I make you nervous. I want you to have the world.
I’m sorry this is who I am. Because if you’re too busy telling me I can’t marry who I want and live the lifestyle that I choose, then you’re missing out on the chance to not only get to know me, but the chance to get to know the amazing people that I surround myself with. We are one group of people – gay, straight, or in-between, united to make a change in the world around us through what all major religions and all basic humanitarian teachings tell us – love. I’m sorry this is who I am. You are too busy spewing terrible lies about the people I have come to know, love, and respect to hear the positive, heartfelt, and powerful changes that are being made. Homophobia is so …I can’t even choose a date, because I’m hoping it’s something we can look back on in the near future and laugh about because the mere thought of it brings us to such disbelief. I’m sorry this is who I am. I wake up every morning and look into the eyes of someone who can see right through me and love me for it, and you can’t do that because you’ve got a hard shell of hatred surrounding your heart, soul, and well-being. I’m sorry this is who I am, but I was born this way and you’ll never take that from me.