Everything was a surprise that morning. Waking up to the discovery that Pennsylvania has mountains was just the beginning. 

It was the impetus for self discovery, the landform that finally tipped the scale that had been teetering for months across the gay/straight line.

Trapped in the backseat through five hours of traffic, I could no longer escape it. The truth that had been haunting me finally crawled its way to the center of mind and would not be ignored. I was bisexual.

“I am bisexual,” I whispered to myself, staring in the mirror of a Dunkin Donuts bathroom, trying to reconcile the woman in the glass with the words in my mouth. When did this happen? I didn’t look any different, but I was certain I was seeing myself for the first time. It was the opposite of an out of body experience. I had never been more aware of my physicality. 

I was whispering because I didn’t want my parents to hear me. When I left the bathroom and met them at the coffee counter, I noticed rainbow streamers draped across the ceiling, and it hit me. It was June. It was pride. Did that include me now? I looked at my phone, trying to act disinterested and hoping my parents hadn’t seen me recognizing myself in the paper ribbons.

It was weeks until I felt normal again, until my heart rate didn’t spike every time I remembered. It took me weeks to get my head around, hopping back and forth across the line until it didn’t feel like the life changing revelation it was, until it felt normal, and truthful, and the most natural thing in the world. Of course I’m bi. Didn’t you know?