i remember november first, twenty-fifteen
i remember being hospitalized
and i recall what happened after, but the events leading up to it are much foggier.
the only visitor to my room was the cop who had booked me in october for being a stupid teenager.
that year, i had dreamed of running away:
i would move to vermont or somewhere, far away from everyone i knew
and i would change my name and let my hair grow
and i would stop trying to be someone else
my great american midwest teenage story ended
when i moved back to barrhaven
and the reality of my less than ideal situation hit me full force.
today, i live in the best possible version of that dream
separated from the people who hurt me by miles and miles
without ever having to give up myself.
i don’t need to keep suffering for my story to be worth living.
i deserve community and love and belonging.
and i am home.