thoughts about #QuarantineLife & #pride. my ideal life: a tiny lil house somewhere with just a bit of open space and greenery. there's a dog and a cat. my wife gets excited to rewatch the great british baking show with me and we have fun trying to recreate the recipes.

we live close enough to my friends, and her hypothetical friendgroup, that our game nights are raucous, frequent, and legendary. our door is always open to people we know and love and everyone pops in whenever they like, and they always leave with baked goods.

it's all very aesthetic: we have lights up all around because they're beautiful and sometimes beautiful, feckless things make life a little easier to enjoy. our bookshelves are organized by color. there are musical instruments everywhere.

we feel safe, creatively fulfilled. we love to walk around the city, and sit by the water. we argue, gently, about what we're reading and writing, but get more excited to talk about the things we agree on. we wake up every morning to the smell of coffee.

for the entire day, i have been vacillating between the hope that comes with warmer weather and a beautiful blue sky, filled with anxiety as i wait for my covid test results, and quietly mourning the city that i feel so separate from, that i love so dearly.

i miss a lot of little things: getting coffee in the morning before i teach. finally pushing my way through the subway and up into a very golden afternoon. seeing the seasons pass in the trees: from budding, to pink, to green. i miss feeling productive after a walk & not scared.

but it helps, thinking that one day i'll have those things again, and one day after that i won't be afraid of them. it helps to imagine a life for myself and feel empowered by my sexuality instead of terrified of it, like i had for so many years.

it helps that even at my worst, even battling OCD and ADHD and anxiety so bad that i haven't slept in weeks, i am feeling more whole and integrated as a person: existing not despite of my facets, but because of them. my interests, my gender, my sexuality, my dreams.

all of that is not a collection of disparate parts; it's me. and i'm not ashamed. i have survived a lot to get here, and there's some comfort in knowing that i am not, and never have been, broken. even when i see my therapist. even when i'm happy. even when i don't want to live.

this thread started because i was having a good day, began rewatching the gbbs after making dinner, and started sobbing. i still don't know why i'm crying. am i miserable? scared? happy? probably all of that and more.

i have always tried to find little reasons to live and be comfortable and do a little more than survive. isolated and living alone for months, this has been much harder. but there are things. my renewed love of reading. making bread. daydreaming about the future.

there's no grand statement or moralizing i want to do. i just want to take all my little private thoughts and put them in order and lay them out where even just a few people might see them. and in that, feel a moment of brief connection and solidarity.

my dreams are personal, good, beautiful, and gay, and all of those things must and should exist because they exist together.

i'm going to go back to my modest but very delicious dinner and this season of gbbs i've watched a hundred times (because it's nadiya's season, c'mon), but if you see this, i hope you take some love and encouragement with you for the rest of your day.