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the Queer Bear Stare.
The weather in my brain today is good.
Trying to act like it doesn’t cost me anything is costing me more than I have.
Their skin is warm against mine and the paint is cool, and the inside of me is glitter spinning against dark water.
There’s a certain way that falling for someone can only ever feel when you’ve fallen at least a little for yourself first.
stay, going over the shapes again, waiting for the letters to dry. I stay with this point on the earth that showed me my name.
To the rest of the world, we vanish. But to each other, we’re seen.
That was my access point to language, the patience and openness of the adults in my life who did not let me fall through the cracks in a system that would call me troubled, or obstinate, or unreachable before it would ever call me a reader.
