I grew up in a very remote village, at the border of the woods. Over time, this shaped me into being both a bit wild and shy, not very versed in being with people. When I was a kid, I was really energetic and joyful; sometimes even too much, according to the comments of elementary school teachers about my behavior. Even when already in high school I was always one of the loudest, even though my natural curiosity allowed me to be a talented student. But over the years I started to feel more and more like I was not able to connect with people, and this made my introverted side overcome every other aspect of my personality.

Love, and sex, have always had very little space in my life. I have been very insecure since I can remember; still now, I sometimes struggle to accept that that face, that body that I see in the mirror is who I am, that it is what people see and would have to like in order to like “me”. I thought I had to accept that nobody wanted to be more than just friends with me; it was tough. I put all my energies into studying, which allowed me to get a PhD and find a job abroad. it feels good to have a meaningful job, but sometimes I think I sacrificed too much to be where I am now, and that if I could go back, I would live my teenage years differently.

I was already 17 when I started to notice that I was not only into girls. I talked about this with my closest friends, and I was lucky to find complete support from them; it was an important step. I grew up in a very sexist and generally phobic environment, in which the roles of men and women were very distinct and rigid, and self-expression was given very little value. It was only when I moved abroad that I finally found myself able to live my sexuality more freely.

Moving abroad has been both a good and a bad thing. It is difficult to have an emotional translation for “I’m going away from family and friends for better working conditions”. I spent the first coronavirus confinement in a new country, without the possibility to exit my flat if not for groceries, just working and preparing my PhD dissertation. It was an awful period. Thankfully, I have few fundamental connections, build over time, that are deeply rooted, so I was never really alone. In this period, I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted in life, but I never find myself able to get an answer.

For me it has always been very difficult to connect with my emotions. The reason for my actions often remains very obscure, whether it is about coming closer or moving away from someone. I don’t think I am bad at reading myself or others, it’s just that I need a lot of time to accept how selfish, greedy, fragile, and foolish people can be (of course I am no exception, to any of these).

I don’t like labels, but if I had to use one for my sexuality it would be “bisexual”. To me, it’s ridiculous the level of skepticism and bigotry that this word can still raise. “I don’t believe in bisexual people, either you like men or women” and “I don’t date bisexual guys because they’re natural cheaters” are the kind of verdicts that I received from the two ends of the sexuality spectrum. I don’t think there is anything to understand, to believe, or to know about me as a consequence of being bisexual. People should question their own sexuality, not others’.