hOw eVeR WiLl i gET iNsIiiDe?

It’s been rather soul-sucking, but at the same time it’s jabbed at a self-doubtful part of me and reminded me that I am valid, and my bi friends are valid. I will not be extinguished by bigotry.

However, the shallower part of my conscience which allows the interior struggle of bisexuality to fester, has been subdued by my falling for yet another (*insert sardonic eye roll here*) woman who will undoubtedly break my heart.

Internalised biphobia pricks at the mind, a perpetual sway between the relief of self-acceptance and the terror of false-identification. As I tend to my male infatuations, I am smothered by the question of heterosexuality. With each female romance, I am soothed by the authenticity of my queerness.

It is a false state of mind, one which, within a better society, might not exist.

My struggle is not the worst. My heart screams for the black queer men and women, for transgender people who face the erasure of their very existence.

My anguish is simple, therefore, but agonising: I wish the world were not this way. I wish we could all exist without the struggle that comes with our existence.