Life can be hectic sometimes. I spend most of it going from place to place, having to constantly do homework late at night and going to bed even later. I barely get to spend time with my friends, let alone have a normal romantic relationship with anyone. I’ve only ever had three though, and the last one made me wish I didn’t have any feelings.

Actually, this starts at the end of my relationship before that. In ninth grade, I was dating this boy, Peter, and I thought everything was going wonderfully. It seemed normal in a sea of my parents fighting with my older brother over grades. Until my heart and brain decided to f*** me over. When the end of the school year came around, and I had only been dating Peter for two months, I started to second guess everything. I wondered how I actually felt for him, how I felt about our relationship; did I like us more as friends or a couple? Then I started to question my sexuallity. It wasn’t new, me wondering who I was. I had questioned who I liked, but I just never answered the question. Everyone was labeling themselves, and I decided that this was the time to realize myself. I kept on looking up the meaning of different forms of sexuality, which maybe wasn’t the best idea. I thought I could be demisexual, but I don’t have to be friends with someone before I start to like them. I also thought about pansexual; in the end though it never clicked. I decided that I could just go with bisexual because I knew I liked both boys and girls. Which is why I was second guessing my relationship with Peter. I was beginning to notice my best friend, Wendy, a lot more, and in more than just a friend way. We were in the same boat together. She had already found that she was also bisexual, but her parents had a difficult time accepting her. I noticed her laugh, the way her crystal blue eyes would scrunch up when anything remotely funny happened. I noticed that way that she moved around other people, the slight stiffness, especially around her mother and father. We hung out so much, and she was the first one I talked to when I broke up with Peter.

“I tried to call him, but apparently his phone calls don’t work. I’m a horrible person, aren’t I. I mean, anyone who breaks up over text immediately becomes a horrible person.” I told her on that early summer day, my mind wandering from thought to thought, curious about what she had to say. I had been packing, getting ready for a week long work camp, and panicking. I didn’t want to be known as the one girl who broke up with someone over text; the one girl who was so afraid to tell someone that she confused her feelings.

“It can’t be that bad Grace,” Wendy told me, her voice a calm wave washing over me. “You explained to him the situation, the rest of him was just being a jerk that can’t, no wait, won’t accept the break up. Give him sometime and he’ll get over it.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of! I’m afraid of him telling everyone else some bull story of how I rudely told him to go away or how I just flat out told him we wouldn’t work out.” I vented to her, and the conversation continued, Wendy telling me everything will be better in the end. I can only hope it will be I would think. My feelings weren't as clear then, my mind clouded from the drama going on between Peter and I. As the summer wore on though, the muffled feelings started to become clearer and clearer. I hung out with her almost every weekend that summer, becoming more and more comfortable around her family and their style of living. I became more open as the summer became hotter, my heart growing more fond of the girl I called my best friend. It wasn’t until the month of August did I confirm my feelings.
Wendy’s family has an annual end of the summer party. I had been going for a couple of years, so it wasn’t anything new or anything I wasn’t used to. This year was different though. There are usually a bunch of girls that spend the night, but that time it was just Wendy, her cousin Ariel, our friend Lillian, and me. Of course we up late into the morning, our talking waking everyone up a periodic time. Finally around 4:30 am, we started to calm down, our loud talking simmering down to a soft murmur, our words becoming more personal in the early morning. At that point though both Lillian and Ariel knew about my hesitant crush on Wendy, so they took the problem into their own hands.

“Of course I get shoved off the bed.” I said as I laid in the sleeping bag, against the cold hard ground. “How does this happen?” I asked into the air, to anyone in general. I stared at the roof of the tent, the cool August air kissing my face.

“Aw, poor Grace!” Lillian chimed, and even though I couldn’t see her I knew there was a grin on her face. The tent filled with a light laughter from the four of us, my cheeks flushing a little bit from the attention. I turned my head towards the mass of the three girls, all of them a little bit elevated from my position. A soft mumble followed after as I closed my eyes, wondering if I actually will get any sleep tonight.

“Grace, do you want me to come over there and cuddle with you so you won’t be so lonely?” Wendy asked me, and my eyes flashed open, my whole body burning from the simple thought of being held by her, by the girl I was madly crushing on.

“N-no! I’ll be alright!” I said in a squeaky voice. “Unless you want to come over here of course!” I rushed out suddenly, my mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour. I squeezed my eyes shut, my embarrassment spiking majorly. I wanted to curl up and start sleeping then and there, as I heard the giggles running from everyone else through out the tent and air. That was how I realized that I liked my friend, a girl of all people. I was terrified, my parents had a talk with me earlier that summer, telling me that perhaps I was mistaken, that I was just trying to fit in with a crowd. But this was one of those things that I just knew. I knew that I didn’t just like boys, I knew I was different, and I was determined to make sure my parents didn’t deteriorate me. When Wendy and I went on our girl scout outing, I knew one wrong move and my mother would become suspicious of my feelings. So I was walking on water the whole weekend. I kept on closing myself out from everyone, not wanting to have them question me. One night though. One night was brilliant. We had been out in the sun all day, splashing in Lake Michigan and having bunches of fun. It was about two and a half hours back to our cabin, part of the way back I was reading. When we stopped at a gas station though, and I was wrapping up my book, a head appeared on my shoulder.

“What part are you at?” Wendy asked, and we were pulled into a conversation about the plot and characters since she had read the book before me. Along the way I set the book down after the last chapter, and we had ended up holding hands. Once the car started to move and all the lights were off, we started to cuddle. My nerves were going off as I was curled against her form, my cheeks a bright shade of pink from my excitement. This is amazing, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Was my basic train of thought the rest of the car ride, our conversation dying out after a while, just morphing into cuddling and the soft strokes on my head. My mind continued to replay that night for weeks to come, my heart beating at the thought that we might become a thing. It didn't though. I learned that I couldn’t jump head first into a relationship. She ended up dating someone in New York of all places, and my heart was left broken. I remember everything so clearly, and the lesson that came from it.