Yes I’m attracted to men and women. No I am not bisexual.

As a proud “Directioner” I have definitely been keeping up with the rumours and suspicions about Harry Styles’ sexuality. Recently in an interview with he and Liam Payne, Harry casually revealed that gender is “not that important” in a relationship, causing bisexual accusations to fly out. Harry has always remained so gender neutral in conversations regarding relationships and love, something I also try to do. Harry has never formally “come out” as bisexual, or has he ever addressed his sexuality publicly. And why should he?

It has always really aggravated me that people expect other people to make a public announcement regarding their sexuality. This occurs all the way from the large scale of a celebrity to a high school student who feels pressure to make a Facebook status about their same sex preferences. No one expects a person who identifies as heterosexual to make a PSA about their urges and desires, but they sure do expect them to call no homo if they may have perhaps done something that could be considered homosexual. How offensive to feel the need to make aware that the action you’re partaking in is not to be taken as homosexual. I’ve never seen someone identifying as homosexual make clear of no hetero. Why can a person not just start dating someone of the same sex and have people be okay with it?

Another facet of my aggravation stems from labels. Why does society feel it necessary to categorize people as gay, or straight, or bisexual? Not only has society created these labels, but someone decided that making a group to celebrate any sexuality that isn’t straight would be a good idea. It seems that it’s okay to have pride in sexual preferences associated with the LGBT community, which by all means it is. The community has fantastic ideals; I agree whole-heartedly  that love is love and that all love should be accepted. I do, however, think the community is isolating and a slap in the face to those who identify as heterosexual. If love is love, then why is there not a part of the community that recognizes the straight people of this world?

My personal experience with the struggles that come with the LGBT community began in 12th grade.I had dated a few guys throughout my high school career, never experiencing question or judgement. I began seeing a girl in January of senior year, and of course, in typical high school fashion, it seemed everyone knew the next morning. I had to field so many unexpected questions from people i was close to and also from people i was not so close to. It always began with, “so are you, like, bi now?” to which I would always answer no. Immediately following they would ask very carefully, “are you a lesbian then?” to which i would also reply no. I was then face to face with a very confused person that, without fail, always finished up the questions by asking, “so what are you then?” I would always answer in a similar fashion, “I am still me. I was me dating a guy and now I’m me dating a girl. I don’t need a label to tell me who I am.” I learned very quickly that I didn’t need a label to understand myself. Other people labeled me because they couldn’t understand how I felt. Giving a label that has a definition helps them to comprehend something that they otherwise never could.

Some people would place me as a member of the LGBT community, but I don’t. I’m not bisexual. I’m not gay. I’m not straight. I’m just me, and I’m always going to be me no matter who I’m attracted to or who I date or who I love. If i were to identify with any sort of label, it would happily be gender neutrality. Who you love is not important but who you are is. If you want to experiment in college with same sex relationships, do it. You can never understand someone until you take the time to go to a place where you can understand them. Kiss who you’re attracted to, love who you love, be who you are and be proud.

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Blind Beauty

Have you ever listened to the wind?

Sat in the dark on the dewy grass and just listened?

You can hear the whistle of a distant kettle as a woman makes a cup of tea.

You can hear the cry of a child for “just five more minutes”.

You can hear the laugh of the boys riding their bikes by the light of the moon.

You can hear the pages of a book turn as a young girl reads by flashlight under her covers.

You can hear the lights flick off as the man next door crawls into his bed.

If you close your eyes you can hear the wind blow through the trees and dance over the grass

Until it eventually kisses your face in that gentle, familiar way.

And although your eyes are closed,

The world has never looked more beautiful.

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I write

I write for the average person
I write for the people I connect with
I write for the lost souls of everyday life
I write for the people who have nothing to show for their age
Except for scars
Broken hearts and grey hairs
The people that have worked hard for every pay check in their lives
Who scrounge up change from under the driver side seat if their car
Just to buy a pack of cigarettes
The people who go out on Saturday night because Friday was pay day and that’s all they can afford.

I write this because right now I don’t have enough money to keep smoking like I want to
To start driving the car I want to
To pay back the money that I owe
Or really to do anything outside of sitting and being stuck in my own head
And I know a lot of you are like me
Too much thinking can be a very bad thing
I’m not saying it leads to bad thoughts
Like suicide or robbing a bank or stealing a car or anything like that
It’s bad because people like me start thinking too much and we can never stop
And if we never stop we can never sleep
If we never sleep then we can never stop this ongoing effect that we call our thoughts
But eventually we sleep

And when the sun raises in the morning all we want to do is cover our face with the blanket
And go back to playing poker on the moon with all of our heroes
But instead of this dream we have to wake up
Nine to five
Nine to five
Everyday for five days a week
Fifty two weeks a year
For at least sixty five years out of our lives
Back to the grind

I write this for the hopeless romantics
For the young generations that can barely understand my words
I write this
Sitting alone in my bedroom waiting for the day my voice is heard
I write this
And I’ll keep on writing ’till my hands decide that they don’t want to hold a pen anymore

Hakuna Matata

It’s amazing to think I met her 9 years ago, when summer theatre was still held in the teen room. Back in the day if Alice in Wonderland where we were both cast as garden flowers with about a quarter of a line each and High School Musical where we composed 2/4 of the “skater dudes”. The next year we moved up a little higher and received parts with names in Treasure Island and Jake and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. The following year is when we really blossomed with our breakout roles of Timon and Pumbaa in The Lion King. Not only did we steal the show, but these roles brought us together as really great friends. We continued with musicals, participating in Cats, Mary Poppins, Finding Nemo, Seussical the Musical, The Jungle Book and Wicked. Theatre really brought us together. After our final summer performance I went off to high school and no longer participated in the shows. That was the last time I ever performed on stage.
During the Jungle Book I went through sort of a rough patch, and trust me, apologies have been given out generously. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of but no matter how stupid the thing I did was, she always just said in the motherly tone she was so famous for, “do you really think that was in your best interest?” She was one of the only people to not lose faith in me during that time of struggle and I wish I would have taken the time to make my gratitude known to her.
I recently read a book that taught me a bit about infinities. There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course there is a bigger set of infinite numbers between 0 and 2 or 0 and a million. It just shows that some infinities are bigger than others. There are many days when I resent the size of her unbound set. I would have loved more numbers for her yet I am thankful for her little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. She graced us a forever within her numbered days, and I am grateful.
She was one of my best friends. We didn’t talk every day but then again we didn’t need to. She would call me once a week or so to catch up and we were constantly gossiping about which guys we had crushes on. We made time to see each other as much as we could but encountered some road blocks along the way. When she was away for treatments she couldn’t always call but never failed to message me over Facebook a very long and detailed paragraph about how she was doing, always upbeat and always positive. She taught me the power of optimism and what true strength looks like. She is an inspiration to me in do many ways and I miss her dearly. A friend like that is irreplaceable. We had last made plans to see Finding Dory since we were in Finding Nemo together. Although she is no longer able to come to the theatre physically, I know she will be there in spirit. As reads the Irish blessing, “May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sunshine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”
I believe she is with us all everyday. Her mothering nature wouldn’t allow for anything else. Her love radiates upon us all and she is a constant reminder of the beauty and fragility of life. She was always beautiful to me before the cancer and long after she has gone. We are never truly without her as a little piece of her lives within each and every once of us. May she be remembered for her beauty inside and out, her strength, her sass, her talent and her grace. I will never say goodbye to her, I never have, like it has always been and will remain, it’s a see you soon Pumbaa.
Love always, Timon