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I remember the 12 year old me, I lived a busy life at a busy school in busy South East London, I had an adventurous mind and with my adventurous girlfriend by my side, nothing could stop us.

But in those days of 2012, where people like me in my school alike where finding themselves and exploring new things, I found affection for a boy in the same class as me – my height, my build and the same mind-set. To me he was beautiful – or as put in terms my generation could understand better; ‘Cute’, which is what I told him soon after. I still find it a shame that he didn’t feel the same way about me, but nevertheless, he was the first person I had hinted to that I was ‘Bisexual’, or so I thought anyway……

Due to a ‘leak; the word spread round the school and people became accepting of it, gradually anyhow…there were some mean comments that were thrown at me like daggers across the room, I was the constant target for hate for the people that wished for it to be so – they went so far as to say things about my family, my general lifestyle and my dress sense and face. My girlfriend wasn’t only accepting but fought for me and I could never say enough words to thank her for that, however as years fled away from us, we split apart and finally decided to break up to save our friendship. We remained best of friends and the fun times never stopped between us.

Back at school, I didn’t feel comfortable in the skin I lived in, and as the comments rose and fell and the stress of the mainstream education overall hit me as the months flew by, my mental health started to dip and to improve my mental state of mind, I, with the aid of my family pulled out of mainstream secondary school to be home schooled.

Being home schooled (or free-schooled as some call it) was what some would call a ‘god send’ as I felt more at home in places that weren’t and met new, more exciting and accepting friends. There was no judgement about my sexuality or my looks, my expression or my actions and I even felt more inclined to open up and tell my parents about my sexuality. At this time, I felt more attracted toward the male gender and gradually but frequently, came out and opened up as ‘Gay’. People were surprised but accepting and I felt so much at home in the world and time that I lived in.

After an emotional evening involving a phone call to my dad, an argument outside a pub with him, a crush, and a ‘My Chemical Romance’ meet up in London, I finally came out to my Dad who took it all as a surprise, but a positive one, nonetheless. He hugged me whilst I shed a s tear or two and said ‘that must have been hard to say, well done and I’ll always love you.’ The same thing happened with mu Mum – except this time it was partnered with a full-on crying session. She told me a few things similar to my Dad. She also told me to leave it a while to consider whether I was fully sure about my sexual orientation or not, but after a few moments of me explaining how sure I was, she came to accept it – she was only worried about my mental whereabouts of the situation and I’ve only just recently come to understand this fully.

At the age of 13, I discovered Facebook, too soon I now realise, as after finding, chatting with and meeting up with a stranger who contacted me over the social media site (who lied about most of his identity), something terrible and ultimately unmentionable occurred. I cannot go into detail about this subject. Soon my parents found out about this and saw that my sexual orientation was correct in my eyes, but after they set a few locks on my life to protect me, I found it was muffled slightly, deranged. Me and my friends sent letters to each other and strived to keep in contact – the best of which I am still in contact with today.

But sadly, throughout the years – even after meeting up with her a few times after I stopped seeing her for a while, my old girlfriend and I have faded more apart than ever in more recent years. She hangs out with a different crowd now and acts differently than she used to. And although she’s a friend, she’s an old friend and we go back a long way, so at the same time it pains me as I see myself change, to see her entity drift.

As much as I’m not good with external change, I wouldn’t have been able to keep a stable head without the generous and kind-hearted people who stood by my side in these times that flung themselves ahead of us, the adults who have been through so much that I call my parents and the world for spinning even when the pace stops.

But if the understatic pace stops, we degrade. But there is no degrading aspect in being static.

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