I can't count the number of times I mentally substituted what I wanted to say with what I felt like I had to say.

It became an instinct.

Censor. Filter. Present.

I strongly believed that my raw self would never be accepted. I still do in some places.

I've come to realize that none of it matters—because I'm the one who’s been rejecting myself this whole time.

And I don't plan on doing that anymore.

Gay or not, neither should you.