I almost left the group chat today. Nothing big happened. I just saw the little bubble with everyone’s faces and felt that ache, the one that’s half loneliness and half I-don’t-fit-here. It’s familiar. Sometimes I wonder if queerness is just learning to stay in rooms that don’t always feel shaped for me. Sometimes I think it’s also the way I keep finding small ways to belong anyway.
I scrolled up, looking for a reason to stay. There’s a meme from Deja—something ridiculous about Beyoncé and astrology. I smiled, quietly, because Deja is always sending those, and I always roll my eyes, but I’d miss it if she stopped. There’s comfort in knowing someone expects me to be here, even if I’m mostly watching. That’s my way, I guess. I don’t have the energy to be loud every day. Some days, my queerness feels like a soft sweater I put on before stepping out. Other days, it’s just my skin.
It’s funny how I can want to leave so many things—chats, parties, even my own thoughts—but I rarely do. I’ve learned that I stick around, even if I’m quiet, even if I think no one notices. Maybe that’s a kind of presence. Maybe it’s enough to show up as myself, even when I feel small.
Today, I didn’t say anything in the chat. I just watched the conversation roll by, a little window into lives I care about, even when I’m tired. I noticed how much I love these people, and how much I love the version of me that stays. Not out of obligation, but because I want to see how it feels to belong, even when I’m not sure I do.
I’m still here. That feels soft and true.