Categorize Me

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After finding out about sexuality originally in health class, N and I didn't talk much. To add insult to injury, my family ended up moving to a different school district. I could no longer walk to her house, see her in math, or awkwardly glance at her in the hallways (a common occurrence).
We moved up into high school, where I learned words like gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer, and transgender. I learned that just because Sydney was on my girl's field hockey team in 8th grade didn't mean that when puberty hit she wouldn't realize that Elliot was a better name, and male pronouns were what he wanted.
And that was ok. I loved meeting all of these awesome people who knew EXACTLY who they were. Only, I had no idea where to put myself. I wanted to fit into a box. Any box, really. I felt like I needed a category so that I could fit in, so that I could make sense to myself.  But I didn't fit into any of them. I liked girls, I liked guys. I liked trans girls and guys. I liked humans.
I hadn't learned that I could be all of those things at once.
It took me a long time to get to the point where I can comfortably call myself pansexual. I went through several categories before it. And every time I changed what I called myself, people would ask me things like, "Wait, aren't you gay?" or, "I thought you were bi?"
A lot of people don't realize that it's a long road. A long, confusing one. And that's ok, maybe they're perfectly happy with the category they've been given and never had to ask themselves these questions. Maybe they figured it out after only one category change.  It just took me longer than most. But I'm happy with my category now. In fact, it's the most anti-categoric category out there. It's me telling the world, "ILL LIKE WHO I LIKE AND THATS IT!"

And that's it.

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