Imagine being 20 years old or so; lonely, lost, and a little–maybe a lot–confused by college life. You kinda sorta know you’re gay, OK, you know it but for tons of reasons you’ve always kept it private, and now you’re terrified because you realize it is time to stop pretending. Sure, some kids came out in high school but they’re not you.
One day you muster your courage, or maybe you are finally so sick of the alienation and pretense, and you make it over to the campus LGBT offices. Maybe they’ll help, know what to do. Soon you are in the elevator. You know the right floor but you find your hand frozen, you just can’t push the button, that would be too much of an admission, to yourself and the other people standing there. So, you get off one-floor below the office and walk up the stairs only to then pace anxiously back-and-forth before deciding it really is too big a step for right now. You go back to your dorm.
What do you then?