And it turns out, to a certain extent, that that’s true.

So I girded myself for impact. I read books with gay characters to see how they came out. I read It Gets Better because that felt like a thing young closeted gay people were supposed to read. I read articles I found on Google about the best way to come out to each person in your life. And finally, I did it.

I wanted my mother to be the first to know, because I knew she would be hurt if I told anybody else something so deeply personal before her. I wrote her a letter, because a letter felt like the easiest and also most dramatic way to do this kind of thing, and I wasn’t about to let an opportunity for theatrics go to waste. I don’t remember exactly what the letter said, but I think it went something like, “Sorry I ruined a perfectly good set of sheets in the eighth grade. It was because of the shirtless picture of Nick Lachey I saw in the Us Weekly you left on the kitchen counter.” I cried, and I’m not sure why, because I wasn’t sad, but I guess you just cry during these things because it’s emotional. Of course, my mother said she loved me and would always love me and she just wanted me to be happy. And, to top it off, one of the first things she asked me was: “Is Kellan your boyfriend?” And I had to fucking say no.

About a week later, I wrote to Kellan and confessed that I was gay, that that’s why I’d been so emotional lately, that I was sorry for being a weirdo and hiding in his closet and going through his phone, that he was my best friend and I just wanted to know he would still be my friend no matter what. And, like a good, normal friend, he told me I’d still be the same “Beyoncé loving, Gaga praising” Matt as before, that nothing would change between us.

Of course, coming out wouldn’t change the fact that I was still secretly obsessed with Kellan, even if I tried desperately to deny it. A few days after I told him, I wrote a Facebook message to our group of friends to announce my news, and the following is an absolutely real excerpt from that message. I cringe to reread this message, not to mention publish it for the world to see, but nothing better illustrates the anxieties of my gay brain than these words. Here is that message, edited only for length:

Hey friends,

So I have newsss.

I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching this month (haha, not really, I’m just really bored at work), and I have something important to tell ya’ll and I could really use your support.

Here it is: