Looking sideways

I have discussed your absence multiple times, in different spaces, and I did not have any intention to reopen this can of worms again. Especially as I talked about this right here, a few posts back. But then I saw you. It was not a surprise, really. I knew you'd probably be there. But seeing you in person for the first time in almost a year affected me more than I thought it would. And I was way less prepared than I hoped to be. The truth is, I really wish I stopped for longer, had a proper chat and a tighter hug. But I also know how much that would have hurt me, and how that short encounter was the right decision for me. It was probably less than 30 seconds, and that was already enough to completely wrack me for the rest of the day. It also reminded me that the wound is still very much open. At this point, I'm not even sure anymore that I can be healed.  You look like you've been through a lot. I could see it in your eyes. They looked tired, they looked like life has been ...

It was another horrible day at work. These have been very common lately, although I'm not sure if this has always been the case and I'm only seeing it nowadays. At some point I will talk about this in depth, but for today, I'll have to ask you to take my word for it. Because today I wanna keep things in the family. To be more specific, my chosen family. One of the best things about growing up is being able to choose your own family, and that resonates a lot with a lot of queer people. I have been very lucky with my biological family - we are chaotic and dramatic, but we love each other in our own way, and we accept each other's choices, even when those are not the choices we would ourselves make. But my chosen family is where I struck gold. Without them, I'm not sure I'd even be alive today. Real alive, not metaphorical one. These people saved me many many times, and it was so effortless - they were just there when I needed, no questions asked, no demands, no co...

I don't remember 1994. I was 11 years old, probably old enough to remember something. But my memory has never been super reliable, even to this day, with recent facts - my mom says I never ate enough fish when I was a kid, and fish is supposedly good for the memory. I trust this, cause you know... Mothers know stuff. I don't remember many specific time periods of my childhood, or even teen years. It is all a blob that includes many different factors, things, events and emotions, but I find it really hard to place things in specific times. I definitely don't remember 1984. I was 1 then. Probably I could get something out of it with some kind of regression therapy, but it would be a true marvel if I could remember it on my own. But we are sold out of marvels at the moment. I had a nice childhood until the late years, early teens, when I became old enough to realise I was living in a horrible town in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people with sexist, homophobic, racist a...