“Why do you think now you were so affected by pride?” the therapist asks me today as I sit opposite as per usual, unusually content. I couldn’t answer her. I don’t have an answer.
A mere month ago I saw the hordes of lost boys at the first of the city’s prides and wondered where I fit, judge heavily from afar and was constantly kicked in the teeth by my attempt at connecting. The walls were way too high up, any one would judge from up there.
The last few months with their volatility and the people I met that reflected parts of me I needed to see have brought the walls down and humbled me something fierce. I see more love now then not, which new for me. Oh god that sounded gay.
But it’s true. I have noticed lately that the only person still getting away of my hearts desire is me. I provide the punch lines before others have the chance, which is so ironic as seldom do they want to; I am no longer 14. That has to stop. That stops now.
Sunday I watched the floats go by with a crowd I used to feel disconnected with but now comfortably stood amongst. The pride I felt yesterday still lingers and I want to coddle it like a new seedling, as I need it. Fostering its growth within me is my new desire. Of course I want a partner, and I want that connection, but I now realize that the connection cannot be made if I don’t start making one with myself.
At pride I realized I was no better or above anyone there, nor was I a month a go, nor was I years ago. I was more lost then they were. They were chasing their desires, searching for a bond while I was cowardly chasing it in the shadows.
Once the walls crumbled light was let in and once lit I was made aware of the heaps to be proud of. Hard to mock that which stands proudly.
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