Currently in a love hate relationship, with myself.
I don’t feel comfortable in many spaces. Always in-between, familiar camouflage in a size that fit a previous or future iteration. Clothes that were never meant for me. Quieted and calm, like my mother always wanted.
The queer Eritrean told me to write one sentence a day.
The other queer homie said “maybe chaos is our norm and normal is chaos”.
The privileged friend who thinks she is a Plebeian, told me that everything will work out, risks are good.