To me, coming out was, in a way, accepting the challenge that I could have to face a world with fewer people and friends around me. But it didn’t take me very long to realize, first: those fewer people were the ones who cared about me the most; and second: that being myself was the key to make more likeminded friends and build more meaningful relationships.

Coming out to myself felt like a big step, but also felt very natural because it was something I always knew would happen one day. Like when you’re a kid and you know you’re going to grow bodyhair when you’re older, so you just understand and accept that idea as part of life’s flow. Coming out was the only possible thing to do, after all, living a lie doesn’t take long to get pretty tedious.

Coming out to my parents, on the other hand, took me a lot longer than I thought it would: about 8 years after I first kissed a boy. I knew they knew, but my family has always been very respectful of each other’s privacy. This way, coming out felt more like a formality to me, even though it was a very emotional moment. It was something I knew I had to do, and I knew that it wouldn’t be a big issue. I wish they still wouldn’t be so reluctant to ask me more about my love life, though. But I believe this is something that, year by year, will feel less weird for them.