It must be so nice

To know exactly who you are

To be able to explain

I'm gay, I'm straight, I'm bisexual

Easier to explain who I am to my mother,

Who understands her gay son but not indifferent daughter

Easier to explain to myself,

In a world of titles and labels

Of this or that and that or this,

That there is somewhere I fit

It's hard to explain

That you don't know if you love

That you don't know this part of you,

This 'sexuality'

That others deem essential

To being American, African, Chinese-

To being human

There is a part of me

Deep, deep down

That is afraid that I'll never know

Just who I am and who I will love

But there is a part deeper than that

That is just fine with the confusion

Because this is I am

Who I have always been

And most importantly,

Who I always will be

So what need is there for questions?

For thought out explanations?

What need is there to do anything

But wait for a change?

For a lightbulb in a dark basement?

For an egg to hatch...or not.