In between myth and reality lies truth. Somewhere between homo and hetero lies queer. And in the space between open and closed lies coming out. This is my story. This is my myth. This is my coming out in honor of all queers.
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It all started with the blanket of snow dusting the ground and the silence that follows it. I sat in my room staring out the window mesmerized by the frost clinging to the trees anticipating a loud crack or boom to interrupt the silence, hoping the noise would pull me out of the loop of isolation and despair that were setting in. The noise never came, and at times I find myself still caught in that loop.
I never realized how tiny I felt while I sat in that room until I opened the door and left for good. I look back occasionally and see a small fragment of that person still looking at the fresh snow. It doesn't matter that I haven't lived in snow for over 11 years. The cold lingers. It cuts to the bone, and when the ocean wind blows, laced with dense fog, I still feel it. It doesn't matter how loved I am, how connected I am, how prosperous or fortunate I am. I am still that adolescent waiting for that boom, that crack.
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