The Utterly Confusing, Slightly Depressing Life of a Closeted Bisexual

4 - Some People Like to Have Options

It took me three hours to fall asleep, (not for any particular reason, my brain just likes to think of everything I could've done that day differently, and tonight, there was a lot.)

My eyes snapped open after the half demon half god with skin of crimson red and hair of white wildfire tried to kill me with some sort of hatchet, (yeah, I have odd dreams). I sighed and rolled onto my side,

"I bet it's three." I whispered to myself, grabbing my phone off my side table and checking the time, snickering when it read 3:34am. I try not to worry about the fact every night after I have a nightmare its 3am, but you know, it's the witching hour, why wouldn't it be three?

I flopped back down onto my bed, letting the softness of my pillows hug my head and stared into the darkness of the ceiling until I could no longer see shadows that weren't there. My brain was still filled with discomfort of Zane asking me out. It's not that I'm uncomfortable with my attraction to guys, it's just the way he knew, and was so confident that I was when I'm not. I'm still closeted and unsure how to navigate the confusing world of being bisexual. Because honestly, it is very confusing. Like, we are taught that boys like girls and girls like boys, but some boys like boys and some girls like girls. But we are never told that some people like both, that some boys and girls like to have options in their romantic endeavours.

It's taken me years to finally understand my sexuality, I didn't understand how the fuck I could be attracted to both genders, I never had a girlfriend because I thought I could be gay, no matter the obvious arousal that I got from girls. But when I thought about being with guys, girls just filled my brain and I thought that it must be some weird phase of confusion, that I was obviously straight, I was just curious is all. And all that back and forth did was cause a headache and an anxiety around any romantic or sexual encounters I may have had, (there aren't many, though.)

I let out a shuddering sigh and let the light on my phone guide me over to my laptop so I could turn on the screensaver for a makeshift nightlight, (I'm scared of the dark, alright? You would be too if you had perpetual nightmares of getting murdered.) I flopped back down on my bed and allowed the pillows to protect me as I drifted back into sleep.

I woke before my alarm as per usual, groaning as I saw the timer only three minutes away from that awful sound. I debated whether to just allow myself that precious extra three minutes but knew that was just gonna cause a ripple of effect of constant alarm denial.

Slowly, I peeled out from under my covers and donned my clothes for the day, glad I showered the night before so I didn't have that to worry about.

It took me a grand total of twenty minutes to get ready: putting on the black jeans I wore yesterday, a new grey shirt and the green hoodie I wear everyday (I know, very colourful), brushing my teeth with nothing but the sound of the bristles against my gnashers, (love that word) and the final touch of gathering half of my hair and loosely tying it on the crown of my head, letting the other half fall to my shoulders. I grew my hair out two years ago, and the with the reaction it garnered from my family you'd think I went and got a swastika tattooed on my forehead. I still question their reaction, the multiple hairdresser appointments made for me on my mothers behalf and the constant suggestions to get it cut from my dad, I could be an alcoholic or addicted to heroin but no, growing my hair is the most nightmarish thing I've ever done. Honestly, I think my parents would rather me be an alchie than having this hairstyle the amount they push me to go to parties and drink to my hearts content.

Nell was lounging on the sofa, surprisingly, texting her friends when I reached the ground floor and as I entered the kitchen I saw Jay furiously feasting on a massive bowl of Coco Pops. I grunted in his direction in acknowledgement and began making my coffee complete with four spoons of instant coffee, (I don't care if that's bad for me, I don't even feel the glorious effects of caffeine without that amount.)