There's a moment from when I was in tenth grade that I remember so clearly.
It was P.E. class, and I was sitting somewhere near the basketball court, a place I liked sitting at because it was quiet and covered in the shadows of the trees around.
I was thinking, as we all do sometimes, and had this one specific sentence cross my mind.
"Am I supposed to feel something when I tell my mom I love her?"
I wasn't sure how to answer it.
I wasn't sure how to even approach it.
For a few years after that moment, I always refused to think too much about it. I told myself I was mistaken. Because of course I loved her. She was family. I had to love my family, right?
Then I learned the term afamilial.
It wasn't an immediate "That's me!" kind of feeling.
More of a... "Oh, this exists. Nice."
It took me some time to realize I related to it. Took me even longer to accept it.
But I did, and here I am a few months later.
It feels right to say that.
It feels good to have a name for my experience.
It feels comforting to know there's more people like me out there.
Even if I can never come out to most people. Even if many would think I'm some kind of horrible person for it.
It still feels nice. Because I'm not lying to myself about this anymore.
So... to any afamilials reading this, and to anyone who may have resonated with this post, afamilial or not.
I just want you to know that you're not alone.
We're together in this. We always will be.