I woke up today and didn’t flinch at my own reflection. That’s not always the case, but this morning my eyes just looked back at me, tired and soft, and I let them. I brushed my teeth and didn’t rush through it, because I wasn’t trying to get past myself. I just stood there, toothbrush in hand, breathing for a second.
Sometimes I forget how many small ways I’m hard on myself. The way I second-guess a laugh, or the way I wonder if my voice is too much or too little, if I’m too queer or not queer enough. It’s a quiet thing, running in the background, like a song I don’t remember putting on. Today I noticed it, and I didn’t try to turn it off. I just let it play for a moment.
I put on my favorite shirt, the one that feels a little like armor but mostly like a hug. I remembered the first time I wore it out, feeling both so seen and so invisible, like I was wearing a flag only I could read. Now it’s just a shirt, and I’m just me in it. That feels like progress, even if it’s small.
There’s a gentleness I’m learning to hold for myself, the kind I give to friends without thinking. Black and queer and alive in this body, I get to be a little softer with myself today. No big declarations. Just a little less tension in my jaw, a little more space to breathe.
I think that’s enough for now. I’ll probably forget again tomorrow, but right now, in this quiet, it’s easy to be on my own side. That’s the part I want to remember.