Not Fully

by Anonymous

It’s a day in late December when I get a text ––no, she’s double, triple texting––from a friend. Well, we’re friends through an org from years ago; so, why the text? Well, obviously there’s no discernible reason. This is exciting. Who cares about what the message is. We haven’t talked in months, but I’ve thought about her, and she sent me a text ––no, 3!––which means she has thought about me.

The realization comes like a loud sound or punch in the chest or the window flying open and wind streaming in ––cold and alive!––swooping in and pinning my eyes open.

In the bathroom I put my forehead against the mirror and whisper, I have a crush. ––on a girl!––It’s a face of my identity I never knew existed yet here she is now, blinking in the bathroom mirror with newborn eyes.

There was no accumulation of this! No raining hail of moments, filling the window screen with so

much rubble that it becomes unavoidable, the task of squinting at the window and whispering ––half annoyed, half excited––Well, I suppose I should go outside and take care of this. At least, this is what friends have said it was like, whispering their secret over a coffee, allowing it to materialize for a moment so I could feel it in the puffs of steam on my cheeks. An overlapping sentiment ––’I always knew, deep down.’––and I smiled to their faces to tell them I loved them regardless and unconditionally, and to whisper to myself, Well then, I don’t have to worry.

After all, there was Sanjay ––the only exception to my all-girls birthday party in first grade––and Josh ––whose hoodie I proudly wore at the lunch table in eighth grade––and Luka –– for all of high school, the boy I couldn’t look in the eyes without stuttering. god I wanted him to love me back!––

and other Josh ––the last one, the one from a study group in college.––

All of these pieces of evidence against, so at the very least, I am able to assure myself in a breath against the bathroom mirror ––I must not be, fully.––and my words deliver fog over my face.

Though it is mostly joy, I feel, ––in the bathroom mirror––as I come out as bisexual to myself.

I didn’t consider that years later, I would still have dreams where my parents knew and were accepting. I didn’t consider that these were nightmares due to inconsistencies with reality. ––in the bathroom, wash the sweat off your forehead with cold water and awaken!––

But in the bathroom mirror I am free to be joyful. And I have a crush. ––on a girl!––