My Pursuit Of Freedom-Personal Narrative

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Freedom
“I can’t do this.” I inhaled cold air from the air conditioner and fiddled my sweaty hands together while pressing my clammy forehead against the car window. The leaves on the trees were just starting to change into bold yellows, oranges, and reds. The promise of autumn put a smile on my face, but the awaiting unpredictable response to my confession to my grandparents quickly swiped it away and replaced it with a frown once again. “I change my mind. I do not want to do this today. Maybe another time,” I broke the silence shakily.
Coming out was relatively easy. My friends were the first ones to hear, unsurprisingly. I came out to them during school while we were sitting and picking at our less than desirable school lunches. It was one
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I was sixteen and hated keeping secrets from her – I still do. She took it well and was supportive, but I believe she thought it was a phase. A year went by and I had a girlfriend - that is when it got real for her. She was still loving and supportive, but when it came down to it, she had no idea how to handle my sexuality. After many nights cuddled in bed having deep conversations, my mom grew to understand me more and accepted it as if I had never been any different. I come from a Christian family that tends to be more conservative, which obviously leaves me as an outcast sometimes. This being said, I also have a very loving family who adores me, so I had hope despite all my fears. The next two on my checklist were the hardest ones: my maternal …show more content…
Especially now. I’m bisexual. I like boys and girls both.” Silence. Oh, no. This was a mistake.
“Well, at least you’re some kind of sexual. I wish I still was,” Pap said with a hint of laughter.
I looked up slowly to find a grin on his face.
“Caty, we love you no matter what. We may not understand, but you are our baby.” I looked toward my grandmother who had just spoken with a kind tone of voice I had not heard in a while.
I looked around to see my family members looking at me with nothing but love, and maybe a little bit of curiosity. I knew they had a lot of questions, but in the moment I was only concerned about what they had just said. The band around my chest snapped and I could breathe again. I did it; the hard part was over. It felt like walking out of school on the last day and feeling nothing but freedom. Suddenly my face felt wet and I reached up to wipe away my salty tears.
“Why are you crying,” Mom asked with a worried face as she moved to sit beside me and hold my still shaking

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