By

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Coming from a country where LGBT is completely and absolutely illegal, being what I am never even seemed like an option. I'd watch my parents, siblings, and even my friends openly criticise something LGBT-related that they'd seen on the TV or read in the newspapers, and I'd feel my heart sink. Me being bisexual was something they'd never accept, and I was sure of it. So I didn't tell them.

But through all this, there was one person I was sure I could trust: my best friend. And why wouldn't I? How many times had she lent me her hand to hold on to? How many times had she watched my back when I needed her to? How many years had we stuck together-laughing and learning and fighting and living? How many times had she promised we would be best friends forever?

Of course I could trust her. She was my salvation, the only one who could truly understand me. Or at least, that's what I thought, until the day I decided to tell her.

To tell her that I was in love with her.

The effect was instantaneous. She stared at me, with those hazel eyes that I loved so much, but this wasn't a look of love. It was a look of shock, and then a look of absolute contempt. She didn't move. And then finally, "Don't ever talk to me again," she said coldly. If she had rejected me, even told me that every signal I'd thought I'd received over the past years was wrong, I could've taken it. But she kept looking at me like I was something that didn't deserve to live, didn't deserve to stand next to her, and it hurt. It hurt so much. I turned around and ran back home.

Best friends forever. What happened to that promise?

Days, weeks, months passed by, and she didn't say anything, no words of comfort, no words of understanding, not even of acknowledgement. Then one day, I couldn't take it anymore. Here was the one person I thought I had, and she too had turned her back on me. There was simply nothing left for me.

I went home, seized the first knife I found, locked myself in the bathroom, and I did something I'd promised myself would never happen: I cut open my wrists.

After that there was only a blur. Unbearable pain. Screaming. Fists banging the door open. I woke up much later in a hospital, with two bandaged wrists and a crying mother by my side. My family was incredibly relieved and happy to see me well, and this motivated me to come out to them. God knows that it was the scariest moment of my life.

And after I'd told them, for one horrific moment, everyone fixed me with those same blank stares. Then my brother, my wonderful brother, slapped me in the face and laughed. Yes. Laughed. "You tried to kill yourself for such a small thing?" he chuckled incredulously. "You're such a moron, sis."

And just like that, all was right in the world again.

And today, I'm proud to say that thanks to my amazingly supportive family, and even some friends, I'm happy and completely content with my life. I have the best partner in the world, the best hobby and I have been depression-free for a year. A certain 'friend' even apologised fairly recently for past...ah, issues that I haven't been able to forgive yet. Maybe someday in the future I'll look back at all the moments we shared and I'll smile and laugh, but today clearly isn't the day.

You see, the thing is, my family, my friends- at first, they never really understood the meaning of homosexuality, pansexuality, bisexuality et cetera. They dismissed such subjects as peculiar simply because they were different. Once they discovered that I, their daughter, sister, friend, was one such person, they began to accept these ideals. That was the love, the belief that they had in me; if I was bisexual, then it couldn't possibly be such a bad thing after all, according to their mindset.

And strangely, my revelation had also birthed the winds of change. All around me, I could soon see differences. People began to ask questions. People opened their arms to diversity. It was absolutely magnificent. I wish that each one of you could have been here with me to witness what I had seen. Instead, I can tell you, as I have.

So in the end, what happened is that love saved me, just in a different yet better way than I expected. And what I learnt is that: no matter what happens, stay who you are, and those who really care will accept you that way. As for the others, they don't matter. This is all you need to live.