relationships

  • I Was Here

    I Was Here

    Someday the world will wake up and I will no longer be here. Morning will come the way it always does. Coffee will be made. People will go to work. The quiet machinery of daily life will keep moving forward without noticing that one more voice has gone silent. That is the simple truth of…

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  • I Want You to Know Who I Am

    It was around 1998. I was dating a man who lived in Columbia, Missouri. He was a tennis player. A handsome man who looked a little like a young Robert Redford. I fell hard for those blue eyes and that chiseled jaw. At the time I was raising my three children on my own. On…

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  • I Did My Best

    I Did My Best

    These are thoughts from the quiet moments in the morning, from a night that was too long. Sometimes the quiet in the early morning gets loud enough that I finally let myself say it. Not out of frustration. Not as a defense. Just because it is true. I did my best. I was a very…

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  • Meet Me in St. Louis

    Meet Me in St. Louis

    Every year, for as long as I can remember, I watched Meet Me in St. Louis with my mom. Every Christmas. That was our tradition. She loved that movie. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was teaching me something. About music. About warmth. About how certain stories quietly become part of who…

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  • The Kind of September

    “Try to remember the kind of September.” That line has been echoing in my head all day, and maybe it is because September once carried a very different meaning. When I was young, Labor Day was not just a holiday. It was the last day of freedom before school began again. In St. Louis, we…

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  • Making a Scene

    There is a difference between living straight and living queer. That difference follows us everywhere even when no one speaks of it. Straight people rarely notice because the world already belongs to them. They see themselves reflected on every screen, in every commercial, on every billboard, in every book. Their stories are told without question.…

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  • I Am Not the Secret

    I am not the secret,though they tried to make me one—hiding truth behind closed doors,feeding silence instead of love,teaching bitterness as inheritance.I was the boy they blamed,the brother they resented,the son who stood in the shadows of lies. I am not the sin,though they laid it on my shoulders.I am not the weight of their…

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  • Why do you hurt me?was the prayer I never said aloud.It lived in my mouth like a dying bird,fluttering, breaking its neckon the cage of my molars. You looked at me likesomething ungrateful.Something wild you forgot to tame.I didn’t understand.Not when I still thoughtblood meant safety,that family meant shelterand not war dressed as tradition. Later—I…

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  • Friendships and relationships. Missed, hidden, and mourned There’s a part of coming out no one really prepares you for. People talk about the joy, the freedom, the sense of finally stepping into yourself. And that’s real. But there’s another side too. A quieter, harder side. One that lingers. It’s grief. The Ones I Never Got…

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  • Life isn’t supposed to be a series of “gotcha” moments. You know the kind—those little traps people set in conversations, waiting for someone to slip up just so they can say, “Aha! I caught you.” In healthy relationships, that kind of behavior doesn’t belong. But in dysfunctional families, it can become the norm. I lived…

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