Dear world,
A panic attack and a cup of coffee. Want to know how these two things are similar? I've had two of each this morning. But I happily inform you that only one of the panic attacks was because of you. Here is why.
I am a very flawed person if you couldn't tell already. When asked the question of which of the seven deadly sins most represents me it's always a test of eeny meeny miney moe, because each one fits me to a tee. I have low confidence, which you can probably tell by reading inbetween the lines here and I have an ongoing list of mental problems including LD, ADD, PTSD, depression, social anxiety, and frequent panic attacks.
So as I wait patiently to add more to the bubbling cauldron that is the mental pot-roast of my scrambled mind, I shall write to you, my dear big brother and tell you even more of the things wrong with me.
I get jealous easily, I cry even more easily. I have an addiction to all foods classified as sweet. I'm overweight, I'm sad most of the time, I make a mess in the bathroom every time I take a shower, I have no pain tolerance yet constantly challenge others to fisticuffs. I deal with all my pain with humor. I take things too seriously yet can't take on myself with a straight face. I'm nosey. Can't always take a hint and I daydream about a knight in shining armor coming down from the sky and sweeping me off like a stereotypical helpless teen romantic.
And I stink.
But. Do you want to know what isn't wrong with me?
My sexuality.
When you laughed in my face when I came out of the closet to you on that Tuesday afternoon two years ago on the stairs going up, the extra elevation wasn't the only thing making you above me was it? You jested. My sexuality was worth just a little giggle that parted from your lips. nothing more. Not even enough for a full on laugh. You have long forgotten this but I am haunted. Because you didn't just laugh at my sexuality you laughed at my identity. You laughed at me.
A man I have come to admire for his brilliance with words and skill with numbers laughed in my face when I revealed my true self to him.
I am mad at him.
I am mad at you.
And I have every right to be. I trusted you and you let me down. But I will give you one more chance. So here.
I am pansexual. Pan means all. Pansexual means boy, girl, anything in between and I will love whomever graces themselves to me wholeheartedly, regardless of gender. I can accept almost all forms of love.
But.
If you keep up this closed minded behavior, that's the kind of love I can't accept in my life.
-Love, your dear little sister,
@Queer-Kitty
