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Occasionally it hits me that I'm not, and can't be, close with my extended family. I didn't know my cousin, who I used to be so close with, was accepted into a university and in a lacrosse team. I'm so proud of her. I can't ever tell her that.

I know she would not be proud of me, for everything and how far I've come.

But I'm proud of her. I saw a few posts of hers and was terrified the entire time of liking something in case she ever saw, or noticed me on my profile. She graduated, and it looks like she moved out to Miami for school. She's doing better than she was the last time I saw her.

I hate being queer in a family that wants me dead. I hope she didn't grow up to be like her father and our grandmother.

I wish I didn't have to leave my home state and city. I should've graduated with her, I was supposed to have graduated with her.

And the worst part? I don't remember anything about her. I only remember the stuff my brothers told me about her, like how we used to rewatch 13 going on 30 every time we had a sleep over. I only remember her birthday because it's been in my calendar since I first got a phone. I don't remember her favorite color, or her favorite song. I know we were close, we were best friends for a while, but I don't remember it