I sat in front of the mirror,

stared deep into my eyes,

wondered, searched,

waited, waited, waited.

My breathing baited,

I sat as still as stone,

my eyes wandering

as if my reflection could

give me some sort of answer.

I glanced at the clock, 3:48 AM,

another night gone, wasted away.

 

I spent several

scared, sobbing, sleepless nights

in front of that mirror

hoping, praying, for

some sort of sign,

an exclamation or proclamation,

so I would know who I truly was.

No sign came.

Only my breathing in

of salty sobs filled the air.

The quiet buzz of crickets

in the nighttime became

my routine soundtrack

as I sat there every night

just waiting, waiting, waiting.

 

Each day, I would be asked,

“Are you okay?”

Just say yes,

my mind would repeat,

Just say yes.

I was beginning to wonder,

was I saying yes for them,

or was I trying to

convince myself?

Just say yes.

They have to stop

asking eventually.

Just say yes. Just say yes.

I said yes, but

my heart screamed no.

 

I sat in front of the mirror

and opened and closed my

mouth like a fish.

Why could I not

just say the words?

Maybe, if I could say them,

if I could let them pass my lips,

maybe, the suffocating

would go away.

It’s not like the words

are that hard to say.

People say them

every day.

 

Nights passed on and on.

Hours were wasted,

tears were shed,

tired eyes searched

for the one answer

that would unlock

freedom of the heart.

Finally, one night,

I sat in front of the mirror,

and softly, as if I were

comforting the small child

still encapsulated inside of me,

those words, always so hard to say,

escaped my internal jail.

 

A laugh followed those words,

and the words were repeated

over and over and over again.

Each time, it was easier to breathe.

The words continue to repeat

every now and then.

Can you hear them?

“I am bisexual.”