At eight years old, I did not know enough about the labels people created for others. I also did not know how hurtful society could be when they do not understand something. At times I wish that I could write a letter to my younger self and tell her not to worry about the opinions of others, depending on the situation. I believe that there is nothing wrong with being different. .
It was raining and I was staring out the car window watching the trees pass by. My eldest sister was reading her book and my little sister was napping next to me. I could hear my parents' discussion about one of my dad's students. Their topic did not really interest me so I just let my wondrous imagination and thoughts take over. I knew nothing about people's behavior and how they made their decisions, nor did I really care. It never occurred to me what the world was like or how it could affect me. My biggest problem was figuring out what movie to watch when I got home. I leaned my head against the window contemplating on that problem. "Did you hear what I said, Alysa?" asked my dad. I could see his muddy brown eyes staring at me through the rearview mirror.
"No, what was it?" I huffed out with sigh. .
"I said if one day you think you like other girls then I will still love you. I may not approve, but I will still love you." He gave me a small smile to reassure me except I saw my mother's face go sour. That was the first time we ever had a talk about homosexuals and lesbians. Growing up I still held that memory, but it never brought me comfort. .
During that time I looked within myself and discovered my sexuality. Finally I knew how hateful people could be with their ignorant bullying. I would run home with tears and snot streaming down my face after a long day of being harassed and insulted by the popular girls. One night I tapped on my parents' door to confess my little secret. As I closed the door behind me an instant chill ran through my spine.
