Hey, you.

Yeah, you.

The one who's not reading my article.

You're probably one of the people who congratulated me when you saw I was a writer for this site, that was, until you saw that a lot of my topics were, you know, gay.

I have many Facebook and in-real-life friends who know that I'm a writer but sometimes think I take certain topics too far. This time is no exception. If you fall into this category, you probably took one look at my title, muttered under your breath about how "messed up" I've become, and kept scrolling.

After all, some of you have known me for years. A whole lifetime, even. You remember the days when I was a boy crazed good little Catholic girl who talked up and down about my future wedding. But adulthood brought upon a personal enlightenment, one of the queer variety. Now people who've watched me grow up can't even say two words to me without wondering where did she go wrong?

However, If you're one of the people who is, indeed, reading this article, then I see you weren't deterred by the title. Maybe you're one of the friends who I'm fortunate enough to call an ally. One of the people who is genuinely accepting and take an interest in what I have to say, whether it's on this topic or not. My willingness to talk about my queerness doesn't bother you, because you're open to learning and education.

I love and appreciate these people so much, even though many of the former variety exist. Who are so visibly unhinged by my speaking out about my sexuality that you just don't want to hear it.

I see you. Because I do, in fact, pay attention. And guess what?

I don't care what you think.

This may seem hypocritical, considering I've dedicated an entire article to talking about it, and in turn, calling you out. Just because I care about how the opinion affects me doesn't mean I care about the opinion itself.

I understand; these things make you uncomfortable. You think it's wrong, not natural, a, dare I say, sin. The thing is, I can't help that. I could go on for days about how this was not a choice on my part, that I'm just as gay as you are straight, and can help it as much as you.

Your minds are unchanged, but you're not hateful and outspoken. So that makes it okay, right?

Wrong.

It, somehow, makes it worse.

Homophobia masked as indifference is still homophobia, no matter how you try to dress it up. Because the thing is, I know what's said about me, directly or unspoken, Even though I'm out of certain loops, I'm not totally oblivious to the gossip.

Does it hurt? Of course, it does.

Do I wish I wasn't so judged? Yes, even though I feel pathetic admitting that.

But here's the thing; I refuse to apologize or scale back.

You have no way of knowing this, because the silent forms of gay hatred kept me in the closet for years. I spent years struggling with my sexual identity because I didn't want to accept that about myself. There was no way I could be gay, or even bisexual, because that wasn't what was expected.

I was the average LGBT teenage statistic: depressed, anxious, hating myself so much that I wished I would disappear because the idea of me being gay was too much to handle. I didn't know who would accept me because I barely accepted myself.

When I finally got to the point where I could say it out loud and acknowledge that reality, I was actually happy that I no longer lived in denial or fear. This journey wasn't as quick as the paragraph break made it seem -- it took many years of working through major depressive episodes and self-loathing to get to that point, so many personal issues that I don't think I could get into in just one article. My queerness was all so new to me, but for the first time, I really felt like myself.

It goes without saying that not everyone in my life appreciated my little "enlightenment."

Since I've been at school, I've been disconnected from my former life, and it's probably for the best. Even from a distance, it's hard to see people who I once thought cared about me make their distance. Who knew loyalty was so fickle that a little thing like lesbianism is enough to cut me off?

I'm very lucky that I had friends who understood and supported me, and that my school had a great LGBT organization who helped me figure out a lot of things about myself. My luck goes beyond that; I have wonderful peers who are open and accepting, a great Odyssey staff that allows me a platform to speak out about these issues, and a writing department that allows me to give voice to the queer novels, stories, and poems that lurk in the back of my mind.

But I'm not going to lie for a second. Losing those past connections hurts like hell. It's not so easy to shut down a part of yourself that once cared about people, and that I'm expected to just because they're so judgmental towards me.

It's difficult when I want to go back, because I know there are people waiting for me to go back to the person I was before. Sorry to say, that girl no longer exists, and she will not be making any more appearances.

You may have been comfortable with that girl. The one who just needed the right guy to come along and could try to lead a typical, expected, domestic life.

But let me tell you something about that girl. She wasn't happy. She was scared. She knew she was attracted to girls, but was so fueled with internalized homophobia that she didn't want to live anymore. That girl was also told that she was right to hate herself; she hated herself because she knew it was wrong and deserved all of the angst that came with it.

That girl doesn't exist because now she knows it wasn't a choice. She knows that being in a typical heterosexual relationship could never make her happy. She knows that this is not the phase that people often say it is; after all, she's known for years what it was, but didn't have the name for it until she got older. Most of all, she knows that, forgive the cliche, that her prince charming all along was meant to be a princess.

And let me tell you something else: she f*cking loves to talk about it.

Maybe it was all those years in the closet, spent in denial, but now, she can't help talking about how gay she is. Though queerness is not the core of her identity, it's a part of her, a part that she is no longer ashamed to admit is true. She also knows how lucky she is, and that LGBT persons all over the world need her voice, among others, to speak out and help them, and raise awareness and help gain support.

But she's also aware that the very mention of queerness bothers people. It makes them terribly uncomfortable. They're not homophobic, they swear! Just maybe don't do it around them.

I see the people like that, I may very well see them in you.

Maybe you did as you always do when you see me talk about LGBT issues and kept scrolling down your feed. But if you opened this article, I hope you take what I've said to heart.

And if not? Your discomfort is no longer my problem.