I sighed, sitting in my room, clicking keys on my computer. I switched to my iPad every once in a while, tapping on different Billie Eilish songs. Bellyache was my third favorite, so I clicked on it. Next I would pick my favorite, Lovely, and then second favorite, Ocean Eyes. On my computer I was updating my Billdip fan stories on Wattpad.

"I lost my miiiind.... I don't miiiind... where's my miiiind, where's... my... mind..." I mumble-sang. People at school and church and sometimes home said I had an amazing voice, but it was hard to believe. All I heard when I sang was a bad singing voice, and one that was unnaturally deep for a girl. When I spoke my voice was just a bit deeper than all the girls in my school, but when I sang it was really deep.

I scratched at my head, a nervous habit. I was sure to look at the door every few seconds to make sure nobody came in. If they figured out I was writing a gay story... well... my Mom would kill me. My Dad would be confused, as I had very VERY heavily denied being bisexual at the beginning of the summer when he had questioned me about it, and I didn't want it to seem like I had lied. My Mom wasn't there though, so I didn't have to worry about her. She was at her house.

I hadn't lied to my Dad. I wasn't bisexual, I was asexual and panromantic. Not that he would know the difference, he doesn't know much about any sexuality or romantic attraction that isn't straight. I didn't like to lie, but I also didn't want to come out to a homophobic family, so I had just said I wasn't bi. Doesn't mean I was straight, that's just how he took it... and how I wanted him to.

I rubbed my nose, which I realized was running. Guess I hadn't realized I was crying until I rubbed my face, a regular thing for me. When I was little, my emotions got overloaded a lot, so I guess I don't feel them as much anymore. My body reacts the same, but I don't exactly feel that I'm sad, I just realize that the tears are there. The only emotion I really feel is anger, but I don't get angry much. I always act calm.

I continued typing for a minute, then set my computer off to the side and picked up my cat, who was about four or five months old. Her name was Raven, and she was mostly black with mottled brown and orange, a white tail tip, and a particular small orange splotch on her forehead. Her eyes were golden - green, and she seemed to always know when I was - or at least, my body made the reaction to me being - upset.

I petted her head subconsciously, thinking. I wasn't really thinking about something, because my brain hopped from one thought to a another before I could finish thinking the previous thought. Like what happened to Sophie in the Keeper of the Lost Cities series when she put the ability restrictor thing on her head, and her brain did exactly what mine was doing now. Her thoughts were, "I wonder if this is how people with ADD feel." When I read that I couldn't help but scribble in the book, "YES, IT IS!"

I personally had ADHD, and it was exactly how I felt. I looked up from my iPad to see my cat looking at me from the ladder to get up to the top bunk of my bunk bed. I preferred to sleep on the bottom, particularly because I didn't sleep, I just typed. Wrote stories, characters, ideas, on Wattpad. It was like my safe space.

I had a diary of course, but I wasn't sure if that was safe. After all, my Mom could just go in that and read it, so all I put in there was dumb stuff about how I thought Jules, a boy in the class above mine, was super awesome and cool and smart... and somewhat cute. Not that it was a lie, I did think all of those things, but the feelings were somewhat forced.

My second crush at that school was a girl a bit older than me but still in my class, Kate. She was the only one in my class technically shorter than me since Lola left, and Peter was equal height to me. I always thought she was cute, and felt butterflies in my stomach while talking to her and even looking at her, but I always assumed it was my period making my stomach feel that way, and that she was just my best friend.

At the time I had met her, I somewhat knew that liking someone the same gender as you could happen, but I didn't really consider myself being that way. It just seemed too unreal.

Don't get me wrong, even when it was first mentioned to me, I never thought it was wrong; even though my Nana introduced it to me by saying, "That person says that it's okay for a man to marry another man! That's so stupid, to support something of the devil! It makes me sick just to think about it."

In my mind, I was thinking, "What's so wrong about it? It's just two people who love each other, why can't they get married? Makes sense to me..." but I'd never contradict anything Nana said. At the time it seemed like she was the smartest person alive. Out loud I said, "Oh. That's... bad." At the time, I was nine.

I yawned, shutting my eyes for a moment. I had finished the chapter in my story. Of course, I was wearing my maroon hoodie with a white NIKE symbol on the left side, if you were looking at me from the front. I pulled the hood over my head, something my great grandma, Nonie, didn't like for me to do. Getting out my art binder, I started sketching. I was better at drawing humans on paper, so I drew an okay-looking human.

I frowned, and lay back on my bed. By now, I was sweating in my hoodie, but I didn't care. I stared off into space, until my eyes shut themselves, and I fell asleep.

Okay guys, so, almost everything in this story is true, really happened, and / or a description of how I feel most of the time. Basically all I did was change the character names, and I didn't even change all of those from real life to this story. So it can be considered non-fiction lol.