Everybody’s coming out is different. Queer realization can hit you like a bus or creep up over time — maybe even a combination of both. There is no right way to go about it.
One day the scars of the trauma will fade the way the scars on my knees have, to the point that they’re damn near invisible, only noticeable if you’re squinting and know what you’re looking for.
Everyone who has looked back on different points in their lives will realize that these moments are strewn about their memory. They may not be massively significant or complex, but the characteristics of these moments in time blend together to create a painfully nostalgic memory.
I was only four-years-old when I first met the rug of black sun. My parents came across it somehow and decided to take it home, thinking that it would fill our living room with a sense of intercontinental culture. It…