If one more person shakes their head at me and pretends that I don't exist . . .

Listen. I am sixteen years old. I am female. I identify as pansexual.

A lot of people say that pansexuality and bisexuality are similar. I can see that. Maybe that's why this irks me so freaking much.

Listen, Dan Savage. I have a mother who has one job. And her job is to smile and shake her head in disbelief at everything serious that comes out of my mouth. When I told her I didn't believe in God, she laughed. When I told her I needed a therapist, she shrugged and smiled. When she walked in on me with matches in my skin, she shook her head with a grin like it was a phase. I haven't come out to her because, much like you apparently have, she would slap on a knowing smile and tell me that I'll get over it eventually.

I don't care if it is a fucking phase, Mr. Savage.

Because the last thing I need- no, the last thing any "different" teenager needs -is for someone to shake their head and tell them that "Oh, I was there once in my life, too". That doesn't help. All it does is tell me that I'm wrong and that I /will/ change.

Being told that I /will/ change by a gay icon is worse than being told that I need to change by some homophobic sign-toting fuckass on a street corner.

Who knows. Maybe I'll decide I like girls when I'm old and wise. Maybe I'll decide I like boys. Maybe I'll decide I like genderqueers. Maybe I'll just my a shit-ton of cats. Who knows.

You don't.

Don't pretend like you do.