As long as I’m collating things here that I’ve written privately elsewhere, this is a post that touches on issues of identity, isolation and grief. It’s passed its rawness-expiration-date, so I wanted to make it shareable.
There are two distinct ideas here that should probably be two separate essays…but they came to me together.
. . .
For me, queerness has been a story of loneliness. Always the struggle to be seen. The feeling of walking down a New York sidewalk late at night; most people in my life pass by staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, in a hurry. I’m standing there. And it’s cold.
All my life, I’ve dreamed of queer community. I’ve dreamed of it like a paradise. Something out there on an island, far away from me. Maybe I can get there by boat. Maybe I can’t get there at all. Maybe if I make it there…
View original post 1,098 more words