#dorkatarms

Original

Jesus paid but told the barber he'd be back because his hair always gets knotted up.

There are moments when my mom and i talk, and she seems to get it, as much as a straight cisgender Catholic can, and i feel safer. Almost satisfied with the idea that i can come out to her soon. Then she'll say all bisexuals are lying deviants or make a homophobic joke, and all i can do is shut up. She's my mother-- I'm not going to be able to change her mind. My stepfather I can't even hope to come close to changing in any way. My oldest sisters are probably gonna disown me when i come out.

My youngest sister already knows I'm probably either pan or bi. Yesterday, I was masked up and walking with her and her boyfriend, exploring a town we've never seen before; I was nauseous just thinking about the 3 hour drive home, so I wanted to stretch my legs before we set off. We come up to a bridge in the downtown. There are streets and lovely buildings along the river. And on ever other light post along those streets, there's a pride banner.

I'd been feeling shitty earlier that day, looking forward to climbing into my own bed at the end of it, if nothing else. That perked me up to at least not think about jumping off the bridge as much I would.

We explore some more, and we come up to a nice church. Methodist. Flying over every door is a pride flag, and above the main doors are the transgender flag and bi flag.

I was giddy. Happier than I've been in weeks. My sister called me back to follow her, but I nearly cried.

There's that weird up and down of queer living: the world thinks I'm an abomination vs some people actually don't think I'm worthless just for being me. Validation is heartwarming, and fanart was one of the first and only ways I've found validation. But there's something different and beautiful about seeing support physically in front of you.