Alice’s inability to say “being asexual” plagued her. The words formed but lodged themselves in her throat. One night she had stood in front of the mirror repeating, “I’m asexual,” over and over again. She had thought that if she could get used to hearing it, she’d accept it as truth faster. Alice knew it had made sense. She could check off all the little boxes. But she wasn’t sure it was a title that she had necessarily wanted everyone else to know.
