Today I caught myself smiling at the ceiling, which is not my usual vibe. I think it happened because I was finally alone after a string of crowded days, and my body just sort of let go. I felt my shoulders drop, noticed how tense I’d been. Black queer armor is subtle sometimes—mine is a careful voice, a slower laugh, the way I double-check my joy before letting it out in public.
I found myself humming, just a little thing I made up on the spot. That’s when I realized how rare it is for me to let silliness show, even to myself. I’m always a little on guard, even when nobody’s watching. It’s not dramatic, just… there. I remember being a kid and how easy it was to be ridiculous, how easy it was to laugh with my whole chest before I learned to shrink it down.
There’s something soft about being alone and not lonely. I like that about today. I like that my queerness gets to stretch out, take up space in the quiet. Sometimes I think the world wants me to shrink, and I almost do, but right now it’s just me and this gentle song, and that’s enough. I don’t need to hide the goofy, warm parts. I don’t have to explain why I’m happy to no one in particular.
I’m not saying I’ve figured out how to keep my guard down all the time. But today, I noticed how it feels to let it slip, just for a minute. That’s a small thing, but it’s real. I think I’ll remember this feeling next time I catch myself holding back. For now, I’ll just let the quiet be soft and let myself belong here, exactly as I am.