Queer people found a home in my writing, and that’s enough to be proud of, but just think of what potential future could’ve blossomed if I’d been more open about my real life. It suddenly occurs to me this is the first time I’ve accepted my own shortcomings on the topic. Being quietly out of the closet was always good enough, but as the hourglass of my life drains I can’t help considering if good enough is really what I’d like written on my tombstone.
