By

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...It's been a year, that's for sure.

A year since one girlfriend and I parted on amicable term. We worked better as friends rather than lovers, and are still best friends to this day.

A year since I started dating another girlfriend whom I parted with on...less than amicable terms.

Between the gaslighting and the quick cycles of adoration and repulsion she'd give me, the biphobia she showed in asking me if I was "really into girls", and the insidiously hurtful comments she'd make to trigger my PTSD as a way to dismiss me or my fears, I was left feeling hurt and broken. I felt she undervalued my ideas and my writing skill, and the pride and work I have in the Ouija Board of Directors I lead over at . The friendships and relationships I've established on Wattpad. Nothing I did ever felt good enough for her. I would've felt better if she had physically hurt me, rather than isolating me from the local community and my friends like she did.

But throughout the depression I had afterwards, I found that she lied, and the queer community was still there for me. My friends on and off Wattpad were still there for me. My first ex-girlfriend was still there for me, more so than anyone else. She graciously and gently pointed out the abuse, and that I deserved better. She knew; she loved me once, too, and had never treated me in that manner, no matter how upset she felt. We talked things out. We communicated and tried to respect each other's needs and boundaries as best we could. Even if we didn't share mutual romantic feelings, she showed me that even if the feelings in a relationship might change, you can still be cared for and shown respect and consideration. To her, I am eternally grateful, and wish the greatest happiness on whatever lucky girl she shares her beautiful heart with.

My abusive ex had lead me to believe that she knew everyone in the local community already, and that they'd believe her over me. But people made their own decisions, and revealed she's a broken stair within the community.

It can be incredibly isolating to be in an abusive queer relationship. The fear of losing such a small, close-knit community and not knowing where you might find others who will accept you. The fear of being outed to your work or family who may not accept you. I knew beforehand the importance of having supportive, healthy relationships, especially with other queer individuals, but I didn't fully understand how valuable they can be until I experienced it myself.

And I am so grateful to the safe place Wattpad has established in the profile. To be able to reach out and connect with other pansexuals and those on the Ace-spectum. To be able to write stories of queer love. To be able to talk about concerns and issues that face us, especially as my country tries to erode all the progress we've made in LGBT+ rights.

But there's one other person who supported me, and to whom I've grown very fond of. I never thought, a year ago, that she might feel the same for me. But life is strange, and I find myself refreshing my chat windows to see if she's said something, my heart fluttering. I'm learning her language to be able to praise her and speak to her in her native tongue to see the way her face lights up and the soft giggle she makes and the way her cheeks turn as red as her hair. She was my friend, and maybe we might never go beyond an intimate, flirtatious, emotional relationship, but I would like to be in each other's lives.

To maybe one day go to the waterpark together and grab an ice cream date, or go to the beach and lay on the sand and let the waves crash over us. To curl up together on the couch one afternoon after a good movie and chat for hours until we fall asleep against the other.

To talk about queer literature and cats and fairies and nightmares and music and modeling and art and everything we have in common and the differences in everything we don't.

To write sweet relationships between our two characters as they struggle against nightmares and the monsters within. To support each other against our own darknesses.

To one day cross the distance between us and fall into each other's embrace with happy, tear-stained cheeks. Without the support and love of a queer community, I'm not sure I'd be in the position to have the courage to ask these things. But a year later, I hold out hope in my open arms.