Today, for no reason at all, I found myself in line at the coffee shop, thinking about how I always end up here when I don’t know what else to do with myself. It’s not even about the coffee. I just like the way it feels to be around people but not have to talk to them. I guess it’s one of those queer city things—finding comfort in the background, blending in and standing out at the same time.
I caught my reflection in the glass case of pastries. I looked at myself longer than I meant to. I don’t always recognize my own softness. I remember when I was younger, I thought being Black and queer meant I had to be tough all the time, so nobody could get to me. But here I am, in a pink hoodie, quietly debating if I want oat milk or whole milk. It’s funny how that feels like a big decision some days.
There was a moment, right before I ordered, where I almost let myself turn away. Not from the counter, but from existing in this small, open way. I’m still learning how to let myself be seen, even if it’s just by a barista who probably doesn’t care. But it matters to me. I used to think quiet meant invisible. Now I think it just means waiting for the right light to come in.
I got my coffee and sat by the window. I didn’t do anything big. I just sipped and scrolled through my phone. I felt okay. Not amazing, not terrible. Just here. Sometimes that’s all I want. To be in my own gentle orbit, soft and unbothered, letting the world pass by, knowing who I am is enough for today.