I've been mentally preparing myself to come out all over again, but I've been doing that for a while now. That was one of the things I realized early. If you're queer, your life has the potential to become one long coming-out moment. If I ever want to be called the right pronouns, I'll have to correct people and put myself out there first and who knows what could happen.
I was foolish in my belief that grief was a straightforward thing. I thought the first wave would hit, and gradually the feelings of sadness and desperation would slip away until I found myself normal again. But I was so very wrong. Because grief is a complicated, ugly, messy thing. And it makes you do complicated, ugly, messy things.
Sometimes poetry is more about the feeling the words give you, the emotion, the placement, and not necessarily the words themselves. But the words are what you read. And you read the words to find the emotion, so the words do matter.
Bodies are fucking weird, especially when it feels like you don't belong in your own
So there was nowhere. Nowhere that I belonged.