I’m twenty years old and don’t know who I am going to lose because of the ways I’m going to stay the same, then later because of the ways I’m going to change too much. I mean, my god is gonna change. My pronouns are gonna change. My body is gonna change not because of my DNA but because a tick is gonna bite me and that little monster is gonna mess with my life more than a parade of homophobes could ever dream of, but love will still throw me over her shoulder and carry me up every story I’ve ever told myself so I can see what’s true,
