I remember those confusing days, when I knew deep down inside that I am a lesbian, but I was too scared to even process the thought 'lesbian'. I remember having crushes on female TV characters, or girls from school, but even though I knew I liked them, I ignored the feelings. I remember in grade 9, I spent a month fantasyzing about a girl in my science and English classes. She was cute, and so outgoing. I sat a few seats behind her in science, so when the lights were off as we watched videos, she'd block my view of the screen. I didn't care, I just stared at her for the duration of the entire video.

But nope. Didn't have a crush on her. At least, that's what I wanted everyone else to think. I told them I liked a boy with tight pants, named Ken. Every girl knew him, and every girl wanted to sleep with him. Well, every straight girl that is.

I remember when I met a girl, who I will refer to as K. K is bisexual, and I felt awkward when I found out. I felt this familiarity, some kind of connection, but I was afraid at the same time. I guess I wasn't afriad of her bisexuality; I was afraid of my own sexuality. K seemed upset when I said I was straight. I remember one day we were talking about girls, and she said abruptly and sarcastically, "Oh yeah, you're straaiight." At that time, I was really starting to question. I knew then that I wasn't straight, and I wanted to say something in defiance. But I didn't know what to say. Was I bisexual? Was I actually a lesbian?

Then I met a boy named Andrew. Andrew was a good guy; 20 years old, in high school in the small town I grew up in. He failed 3 years of high school. I thought he was cool. I made myself think I liked him. When he kissed me for the first time -- haha, I remember cringing inside -- I gave the impression that I really liked it. Hahaha, that was the day I learned how to fake.

Throughout the whole relationship I hid my homosexual desires. Even from myself. I buried them, and forgot them. I was a good actress. I even fooled myself into thinking I loved him. I pulled off a great sex act -- for the 2 minutes that it lasted. It was terrible, absolutely terrible. I felt uncomfortable and, well, naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. I hated it. But even to this day he thinks I enjoyed it.

After he dumped me, I dated two more guys. Both were younger than Andrew. But both were older than me. I liked older guys, even as friends. They were more mature; easier to talk to.

A week before I met the third guy, I came out again. I decided I won't date men anymore, because I had finally admitted that it was uncomfortable for me. I went to a three-day concert that weekend, and there was a really cute girl. I kept trying to get to know her, but she was too shy. Too quiet. I asked a guy for a cigarette. After that, every time he pulled one out for himself, he pulled one out for me. On the third night, in the mosh pit of Alice Cooper, he and I started making out between songs. Honestly, I imagined that timid sweetie, who's name I never actually learned. But somehow I ended up going on a date with the guy. I spent part of it downtown with him, then we went to his house. He tried to give me oral, which... no matter how hard -- or little -- I tried, I couldn't get into it. Then he pulled out a condom. And that's when the fear shot up my back. My body went cold as I remembered those other times with the other two guys. I said no. I left, and I never talked to him again. Not until about two months ago, when I told him I am a lesbian. He didn't mind. He was actually glad -- he thought I never called him because I hated him.

I remember the first time I came out to someone. My face was red, even though I told her on MSN. My fingers moved across the keyboard as if in slow-motion; time seemed to slow itself down completely. I dreaded what she would think. But I had to tell her. Not just so she would know. No, it wasn't about that. It was so I could finally be who I am, so I didn't have to lie anymore. She accepted me right away. She still loved me as much as before. I told one of my oldest and best guy friends. He'd had a crush on me for the longest time. He was a little upset. I remember before I started coming out, he kept saying he'd hate if I turned out lesbian. And when I told him, he asked me, "Why do you have to be a lesbian?" But he didn't mean it in a discriminatory way. More of a self-pitying, I-wish-you-could-love-me way. I felt bad, but I knew I did have to tell him.

After my best friends knew, I felt more comfortable admitting it. I changed that orientation line on my Myspace from "Not Sure" to "Lesbian". I pasted support pictures and mesages on my profile. I wasn't used to saying "I am a lesbian" to people, and I still blushed when I admitted it in person. But when I met that girl who I love so much, it all changed. I became more confident: I'm no longer the 'quiet one' at school. I have a social life. She brought me out, as far as my personality goes. But this girl.... I had the worst time out of anyone telling her about my sexuality. Almost from the start I liked her. We were close friends since that first week. I feared more than anything losing her, and I wasn't about to let my sexuality be the cause of that. No matter how much I liked her, I would not tell her.

But then one weekend, when she met my oldest, best friend Teri, things changed. We were close that weekend. So close to kissing on more than one occasion. She liked me. I knew she did. She just wasn't ready to admit it.

I started dropping hints about my sexuality. And finally, when I couldn't take the pain any longer, I just told her. Again, over the internet. Her attitude toward me didn't change at all. Or if it did, she stuck by my side even more.

After that, I picked up the book Keeping You A Secret. and that too helped boost my confidence about my sexuality. I finished my proudest painting in art class; two young girls kissing passionately. The whole page is coloured according to the 5-stripe rainbow. Everyone in my art class knows about me, most of my hospitality class, most of my English class, and a lot of my close aquaintances in the pit know about me. The other day, a friend mocked a girl by calling her gay. Just your typical "You're gay." And I just said calmly, "Hey, I'm gay." and he was like, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that." Today, in the same class, we were talking about my friend liking a guy, who she says she thinks is gross. Then I said, "Why are you getting so anal about it? I wouldn't if someone said I like a guy. Course, that's because I don't like guys at all..." And this guy was like, "You don't like guys?" I just kinda stared at him skeptically. We all did because everyone else knew. And I was like, "Well I was painting that picture of the lesbians, and I talk about it every day, isn't that a big enough sign?" and well. Somehow, saying it is so easy now. My girl knows I am a lesbian, and still treats me the same. She's even more physical than ever. That night I kissed her she admitted she may be bi, for the first time ever. And now that she's going through the same stage of insecurity that I went through, I know I'll have to be patient. I'll have to be there for her if she wants to talk. I'll have to wait to be with her.

I know someday it'll feel just as natural for her to admit it as it is for me. I just want to be there for her, because I know I would have done anything to have someone I could talk to. Someone who had been through what I was going through.