How will I live through school being queer and living in Utah? That was a question I used to ask myself every day. At thirteen, I began to understand that I might like girls, not just boys. Even though I grew up in an accepting family, the realization was terrifying. From a young age, you’re handed a version of what your life is supposed to look like, and I suddenly didn’t fit into it. That disconnect made me feel like something was wrong with me. At school, I heard people casually use slurs or say “that’s gay” as an insult. Those words stuck with me. I wanted to accept myself, to believe I could be loved without shame, but I didn’t know how. When I came out to my family, they were supportive, kind, and loving. Still, acceptance from others didn’t mean I could accept myself. In eighth grade, I decided to live more openly. I stopped hiding who I was, even when it felt uncomfortable. But that choice came with consequences. My best friend stopped talking to me. I lost a friendship I thought would last forever. It hurt to realize that something so personal could cost me so much. Around that same time, I turned to writing. I began creating stories about girls who could love each other freely. I wrote about places beyond Utah, where being queer wasn’t something to hide or explain. Publishing those stories online gave me a sense of control. But when I entered high school, the weight of everything caught up to me. I grew tired of the questions, the comments, and the feeling of being different. So I tried to erase that part of myself. I changed how I looked, who I talked to, and even what I wrote about. I forced myself into a version of normal that felt safer, even if it wasn’t real. My writing reflected that shift. I wrote stories about straight relationships that felt less meaningful. Now, as a senior, I’ve begun to return to myself. Earlier this year, I had an experience that made me realize how disconnected I had become from my identity. It forced me to confront what I truly felt and who I really was. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to stop performing and start being honest. Writing has been at the center of that journey. It’s how I process, how I imagine better futures, and how I reclaim parts of myself I once tried to hide. I want to pursue writing because it gives me the power to turn my own isolation into connection with others. My experiences have taught me that stories matter, especially for those who don’t often see themselves reflected. I want to keep writing the stories I needed when I was younger for girls like me, the ones that say you are allowed to exist, to love, and to be seen.