I am unapologetic. Unashamedly unapologetic. Because I used to feel as though an apology was always in order for everything, but that isn’t the case. I’m sorry if y not being sorry offends anyone. I’ve been going back and forth the whole year, I’ve been saying sorry and I’ve been feeling rather trapped in my own mind. That ends here. I’m not sorry for wearing a shirt that shows my scars. I’m not sorry for being bisexual. I’m not sorry for not being normal, and I am not sorry because my happiness takes a little bending of the rules. I’m not sorry. The whole year seems to have played itself out into one big apology, and that eds year. 2016 is not an apology.

For all the times I snuck out of the house and had to lie about who I was with and where I was going, I don’t think I was wrong. I am not sorry. Because I am happy, and will not apologize for lying to maintain sanity, I will not apologize for loving him. I don’t think I ever want to apologize for loving him, because they may find it wrong, but I’ve never felt anything more right before. Yes, I’ve been lying just to be able to see him, but I refuse to feel guilty over that stolen happiness anymore. Maybe I’m too young to know what I want, but right now I want him, and I know he will make me happy. He’s mine, and I’m not sorry about that either. Maybe I should be, that’s a matter of opinion, but I can assure you I choose not to be, because it’s gotten to the point where apologizing for my own happiness has become second nature. I’m not going to settle for that anymore. I’m not sorry, by the way, to the nurse who had to give me a blood test that day in the hospital. I’m not sorry that you had to look at my hideous self harm cars on my wrist. They’re just clumps of scar tissue, and if I’m over it it should be easy enough for you to get over to. I’m not sorry you had to see them, especially after you asked me whether or not I was crazy. I’m not sorry for my sexuality, because that is who I am, and that can’t be changed. I’m absolutely unapologetic about the fact that I can, and have, and will, fall in love with both boys and girls. That’s just twice as many butterflies in my stomach, but I’m not sorry.



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