𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙄𝙎 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀

𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

It was the September during my sophomore year.

I went to a sleepover for two of my friends birthday and there was a lot of girls there. One of them was openly gay.

Me and three other girls were in one room, the rest in another room.

Me and the three girls decided to play truth or dare, pretty cliché if you ask me.

One of the girls had dared me to kiss another girl, the gay one.

I was pretty nervous, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to kiss a girl, I didn't know if I had to do anything different or anything special.

She put one of her hands on the side of my face and pulled me to her, kissing me.

It was finally happening, and it didn't feel like anything I had ever felt while kissing someone before.

It felt like what a kiss was supposed to feel like.

If I wasn't confused enough, I was even more confused now. Why did kissing her feel so different? I didn't even know her so it's not like we had binding chemistry or anything. I had never talked to her before.

The rest of the night was quiet.

When it was time to go to sleep we laid down in the same bed.

My heart was racing, I definitely wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

I had just kissed a girl.

And I liked it.

So what did that mean for me?

Did that mean I was gay now? Did that mean that I never liked the boys I dated and just thought I did? Did that mean I liked her now? Did that mean that I had to come out to my parents?

I was scared.

I wanted to cry.

I didn't regret it, because I liked it. If it felt like that when I kissed the guys I liked then maybe things would've been different now.

So what was wrong with me? Why did I feel this way with a stranger and not with my own boyfriend? Well, ex boyfriend.

I felt like the worst person in the world. I thought finally kissing a girl would clear things up and that I'd never want to do it again. I thought I just wanted to do it so bad because it was something I'd never done before, but I wasn't big on trying new stuff. It wasn't my favorite thing to do.

So if I just wanted to try it, why did I want to do it again and again?

What was wrong with me?

Why did I feel so awful?

I went home the next day feeling like I had to hide this from my parents, so I did. I swore I would never tell them and if I pretended that it didn't happen it would never happen again.

If I didn't talk to her ever again it wouldn't happen ever again.

So I didn't.