Dear Auburn,

Ever since you were a kid, you treated your thoughts like well-kept secrets. You'd watch Gretchen Peirce walk by in the hallway with her sun-kissed skin and bouncy blonde hair and think, "Wow. She's beautiful. I wonder what it's like to kiss her."

Then, you'd go find your boyfriend's locker and think, "I'm supposed to have a boyfriend. Everyone else wants one, so I guess I should have one." Even if dating always intimidated you, but while your thoughts were secrets, everyone's opinions sounded like the truth.

You'd come up with stories in your head, lies, and plans to tell your friends about a boyfriend that goes to another school, so you can focus on reading and writing and the stuff you actually care about instead. After all, you did become a writer and what is a writer if not a professional liar?

In college, you wrote down ten ways to naturally bring up the fact you wanted to start dating girls to your mother and sister. You knew you couldn't tell your dad yet because he once said, "Auburn, I think you don't have a boyfriend because you're too intimidating. I'm worried you'll end up like your aunt. She's all alone, Auburn."

In hindsight, this cautionary tale was actually the greatest compliment of all time.

I also thought that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words lasted forever. I could ice a bruise, heal a wound, and mend a broken femur, but I couldn't unhear my aunt Donna say in the parking lot of a Chinese buffet, "You know Auburn, usually I tell girls they shouldn't wear glasses and cover up their faces, but you actually look better with glasses."

I was at the age where I didn't think adults could be wrong.

Everything you felt was so grand, like a sweeping YA romance and you were the tortured main character, brooding over your regrets of stating in 8th grade that bisexuality didn't exist and the prejudices you had over your emo girl friends that dated in high school. Instead, you told your mother and sister on Mother's Day at the Mexican restaurant. You made it through ordering a drink but couldn't wait for the cheese dip to arrive.

Auburn Morrow—future queer author and English major—said, "I think I'm going to start dating girls."

"Too," you added quickly. You blushed so hard you walked out of that Mexican restaurant with third degree burns on your ears. An Out bisexual woman for two seconds and you failed to explain what being bisexual even meant.

But you already know all of this with one serious girlfriend in your pocket and a handful of first dates. You thought by now it'd be over and yet, somehow, I know you feel more lost than ever. Huddle up in your mind, you know something is different. That you're feeling depressed.

It's not that you don't like yourself. You don't like the way you feel. You'd never tell your nephew, or your siblings, or your best friend to stop crying or to get over it. These are your feelings and they do matter. Treat yourself like your friend and be gentle, be kind, and don't degrade these feelings. You're not a burden to the people around you as you need more time to find out who you are. There's been no wasted potential. No time lost. Time is just a manmade construct to sell overpriced watches that tell you to get up and walk around a little.

Living in the smallest pockets of the south, you have been a proud bisexual woman, but that pride doesn't lessen because you still have questions and your journey takes frequent stops. You might be a lesbian. You probably are asexual, or at the very least demisexual.

You can tell your sister.

She will continue to love you. She might not understand what some terms mean, but she will listen and she will change her vocabulary because anyone who respects you will. Just telling her for now is enough. Because you have proved time and time again that you're brave. Nothing you needed to prove to anyone but yourself. I'm so proud of you for having the courage to explore these thoughts, even if writing this makes you cry.

You know your own mind and your choices are your own. You're not dating anyone not because you're "too much", but because you just don't want to be dating right now. You wear glasses and contacts because it's your face and you're partial to it. You even feel pretty most days. It's the same with coming out. Everything is your decision. Who gets to know. Who you get to tell. Nobody's opinion truly matters, but your own.

Happy National Coming Out Day.

I love you.

Sincerely,

Auburn Morrow

#

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This letter to myself was written in honor of National Coming Out Day! Wattpad and Maybelline have teamed up for their #BraveTogether writeathon for the month of October, where we can come together and encourage each other to be our truest selves. I was honored to be a part of this campaign because I've struggled feeling alone and I've needed someone to give me a pat on the back and tell me that I'm doing just fine. So, let me be the one to say that I think you're doing great. No matter what stage in the journey you're in.

Coming Out isn't easy, even if you're just coming out to one person or just yourself. You may not realize it, but I know that you're resilient and brave. 

Every write-a-thon entry using the hashtag #BraveTogether will generate a $1 donation to the Trevor Project, an organization dedicated to providing suicide prevention and crisis services for LGTBQ youth - which means you'll also be helping young members of the Lgbtq+ community in need by participating.