I was around fourteen when my childhood friend told me the story. She had been watching TV with her mother and the show mentioned something about bisexuals.

"I can understand gay or straight, but pick one," is the gist of what her mom said.

My friend defended bisexuality.

Which led her mom to ask, "Why are you defending them? Are you one of them or something?"

I laughed at the time. "Well, are you?"

I meant it as a joke, but she didn't. She looked at me expectantly, a sheepish smile on her face. The realization struck me.

"Oh, that's cool," I said, nodding. "Whatever."

I suddenly felt uncomfortable sitting on her bed. We didn't say anything more about it. Luckily, my mother came by a short time later to pick me up.

I was still in shock when we got home. My mother had to go out again to shop, so I was alone with my thoughts. My unhealthy coping mechanism is stress-eating. I opened a box of chocolates and just started shoving them in my mouth. It helped a little, but not much. What did this mean? How was this going to change things?

Tears came to my eyes as the confused feelings mixed inside my body and made me feel sick. I choked back those feelings. It changed nothing. This was my best friend, the girl who had been my sister-from-another-mister since first or second grade. So long I couldn't even remember. I was not going to abandon her over this.

I felt a little better about things when I went to bed that night, but something else bothered me. It was me. Her confession had shocked and confused me, but I realized it was because it made me question myself.

I thought about the strange embarrassment I felt whenever a Victoria's Secret commercial came on, the way I would sometimes catch myself looking at other girls' bodies, I thought about my friend's confession again. Without saying anything she said so much. It made me afraid, but not that she would change or that she would hurt me. It made me afraid because I understood those feelings so well.

The longer I thought, the more the truth sunk in. I was bisexual. I felt so afraid coming to that conclusion. What did this mean for me now? How would it change my life?

I thought about my friend. I knew she must have told me that story intentionally. She wanted me to know the truth about her because we were best friends. I couldn't imagine how scared she must have been to tell me, to not know how I would react. She did though because she trusted I would understand. That I still loved her.

She was right, I did, and I knew she would still love me too. The world can be scary sometimes, but we always had each other. Even in those moments when we felt alone, we were alone together.