“They call it the ‘Five Stages of Grief,’ / Like it’s a determined path for everyone who walks down it. / When in fact, the human experience is far more complex than that. / You can jump from stage to stage. / Some stages are longer than others. / But one thing is true about it. / There is no real ending in sight. / There’s a reason why it ends in acceptance. / You have to just acknowledge it, and move on.” (Gallagher 2024) This is an excerpt from a poem I wrote during the worst year of my life, and—that year—we lost someone I never expected to lose, even though the signs were right in front of me. That someone was my brother’s fiancée. She was so wonderful to talk to. From her patience to her jokes to her empathy to the proudness she would exude, it was all so wonderful. I can say this now, but back then I took this for granted. It all became so obvious to me once she was gone. The way she would always make conversations about me to the way she hid her hair, she was reluctant to speak on her well being. I suppose this made her upset, but this made her selfless. She deemed this cancer her burden to carry, and she never told anyone how bad it truly was. I do believe my brother knew, but how much he knew is unbeknownst to me and every other person in the family. The only time I ever heard her ask for a favor was when she was drunk. My mother told me that when she was drunk, she made my mom promise that she will protect her daughter. We’ve held that promise, I believe. This selflessness has become a trait that I work on. I’ve chosen to forgive people I never would’ve; you never know what someone is going through. I’ve chosen to follow my dreams, a choice I’m sure she would be proud of. You never know when something can be taken away from you. It’s frightening, but I think it’s freeing too. I’m living my life to the fullest. I’m spending my time the way I’d like to. I miss her, we all do. It’s those little things that really hurt. When I play a game I played with my brother and her, it’s difficult not to think about it. Now that her daughter is old enough, I play with her sometimes. Speaking of her daughter, she’s doing great. I see her mother’s kindness in her. Despite how tragic it seems, I don't blame anyone. I can easily blame God or someone of that nature; someone who had the power to stop this, but I believe no one could’ve. Sadly, grief is a far more common emotion than some people would like to think. So, I chose acceptance. It just happened, and I must move on. It’s what she would’ve wanted. How reluctant Death must be, to take the lives of so many, yet so few.

Playing peek-a-boo as a kid was practice for me. For a long time, I hid myself and my identity from everyone. I never was able to be myself around my family and friends. My idea of normal was myself, as I never asked anyone why they feel the way they do. I thought hiding my thoughts was normal. I would lie about the most harmless of things, from Takis not being hot to my opinion about my brother’s singing. This lying, while unimportant in nature, was truly devastating. My parents never knew the true me. Every interaction felt alienating and othering, like there was something off about me. This culminated in my realization about my gender identity and my sexuality. A realization I feel like I always knew. I never asked why I felt attracted to men the same way I and many others felt attracted to women. I just watched my TV shows and never questioned it. During the COVID-19 pandemic and the subsequent quarantine, I furthered myself into the internet. I felt understood by the people on YouTube, and I found out I had another thing “wrong” with me: I was transgender. I thought I could never be accepted. I heard horror stories about people coming out and being pushed away. I thought this was inevitable. I thought I was destined to mask myself until the end of time. Until I met some of my dearest friends. They taught me to be proud, and through discussion, I found out about the LGBTQ+ community. I always knew of it, whether it be stupid “attack helicopter” jokes during middle school or other jokes of similar idiocy. What I never heard about was the good. Those TV shows that I watched defanged the idea of liking the same gender. Whether it be Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, or Adventure Time, they comforted me in ways my kid brain never understood. It normalized the idea, and made me feel seen and heard. I want to be that comfort for a kid. That is why I want to write. To comfort that kid who feels like they’re misunderstood by everyone. The kid that questions everything about themselves. Once I had this purpose, I came out to my parents. They were so supportive and understood me deeply. My dad told me that several of his dearest friends were part of the LGBTQ+ community, and—for clarification—no, I never asked why these two women were so close and living together. The LGBTQ+ community is everywhere and is here to stay. We will keep fighting, no matter how hard some people fight back. I yearn for the day where someone comes up to me and says how impactful my writing was to them. How it made them realize who they truly are. I want to write something that outlasts me and reaches far beyond anything I could ever say. That is my purpose. That is my passion. That is me.