queerness
a short journal entry + an 8-page mini zine for the last day of pride
how can something so intrinsic to my being,
as natural as my frizzy, dark curls
or my lopsided dimples my parents could never track which lineage they derived from,
be a truth i’ve acknowledged accepted
for less than a third of my life?
the games our minds let us play,
the desires left unexplored.
how silly, how plentiful they were.
how unfortunate when they hold us back
from living to our fullest potential?
and yet how lucky that i get to be entirely myself today.
that i’ve made it beyond my anxious teenage expectations,
that i’m surrounded by an abundance of love
and i get to return that adoration.
and above all, i continue to hope.
forever proud of you
x, your pal al
yesterday on my lunch break, i sat at a wooden picnic table under the shade of an oak tree. before diving into my homemade couscous, i cracked open my journal, looking for nourishment, or at least a quick release, among the pages.
one of the first things i saw after opening my eyes mere hours before was an 8-page zine in honor of pride on instagram. i thought about what short story i’d tell if i made my own design. and then i picked up my pen.
thank you for reading! if you’d like a physical zine, maybe i’ll make a small print run for friends.
and of course, happy pride ◡̈
put me on the print list before she gets too famous!
I’m crying again