Sorry, Not Sorry

I am 12 years old.
I am in my first community theatre production.
Some of the kids are backstage debating whether or not it's okay to be gay.
I snatch a Bible from the prop table and present them all with undeniable evidence that
being gay is a sin.
I have never known a gay person.

I am 13 years old.
There's a girl in my class.
She has bright blue eyes and is probably too cool to be my friend, but for some reason
she takes a liking to me.
She gives me a hug every day before class.
I am disappointed on the days when she forgets.

I am 14 years old.
My family and I attend the high school graduation of one of my older friends.
The announcer calls her name, and I cheer extra loud.
My mother turns to me with eyes like daggers and asks,
“What is she, your girlfriend?”
I say of course not.
I wonder what she would do if I said yes.

I am 15 years old.
I finally have my first boyfriend-- a good Christian boy with blonde hair
whose parents don't let us go on dates unsupervised.
One day, as we walk out of school, he kisses me.
It's my first kiss.
I don't feel anything.

I am 16 years old.
I am in another community theatre show.
I make friends with one of my castmates. He is gay.
I grow to love him not in spite of who he is, but because of who he is.
I wonder how the God who created him could feel any differently.

I am 17 years old.
I have a new boyfriend.
We date for almost 3 years.
We break up.
I wonder what comes next.

I am 21 years old.
I watch my friends entertain a revolving door of Tinder dates.
I entertain a couple myself.
I never feel anything.
Every time a boy walks me home, I desperately hope he won't try to kiss me.

I am 22 years old.
I have recently grown very close to one of my former college roommates.
One night at a bar, she informs me she might go home with a guy she's just met.
I feel like my heart has been torn in two.
I can't understand why I care.

I am 22 years old.
I am still spending lots of time with this girl.
We like to sleep at each other's apartments after lengthy rehearsals and nights of bar-hopping.
In the middle of one of these platonic sleepovers, we kiss.
And I realize that this is what kissing is supposed to feel like.

I am 22 years old.
I am in love with a girl.
It doesn't feel unnatural or wrong.
It feels like the only right thing I have ever done or will ever do again.

I am 24 years old.
I’m still in love with that girl.
We are building a life together--a home.
We kiss each other goodbye every morning before work.
We never forget.

It took me 24 years to find myself.
To break free of the theology that had defined my whole life.

My upbringing tells me that I am damned if I love her.
My heart tells me that I am damned if I don't.

So I will love her.

And I won't apologize for it.