Orlando is still heavy on my soul. Thoughts of all those lives lost, of my own participation in our homophobic, transphobic culture. Obsessions around what I could have done differently in my life. Anxieties saying that I’m complicit.
Today, I woke up to the news that 49 people had been killed in a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida. On the day this publishes, I will be attending Portland’s Pride Parade.
I just want to hold all the people I love as close as I can right now. I don’t want any of us to be afraid to be who we are or love who we please.
I am horrified at the loss of life. I’m ready to fight for the rights of the LGBTQIA+ community because it’s the right thing to do.
But if you’re a person who can’t make that leap, then fight because of the way it might affect those you care about. I am a person who struggles to define his gender and sexuality sometimes, who tends to live outside of heteronormative spaces. I could have been in that club. The people closest to me could have been in that club. If you can’t fight for a stranger, then I guarantee you don’t have to look far to find someone who you can fight for.
These days I find myself attracted to people of all shapes and sizes, but when I look at her I go full Leo Bloom. It’s not exactly my favorite thing about myself.
Anxiety Brain is an asshole.
Anxiety Brain strikes again.
I want to do right by you. Yes, you.
I’m the very best boyfriend ever.
As my anxiety goes up, my obsessive, repetitive video game playing has a high likelihood of going up.
The most awkward thing about publishing this comic is not that the person I’m talking about will read this and realize the jig is up, it’s worrying that someone who I don’t actually have a beef with will think it’s about them.
Which makes me want to make a follow up comic where I agonize over the text I’m writing here because I’m terrified I’ll offend someone I didn’t mean to.
So … you know … progress.
When I was talking about the comic before I launched it, this is what I intended to use it for: To give myself context. To turn my messy life into a neat and tidy narrative that moved from my childhood to the adult I have become.
But that’s not how life works. Even if it is how biopics work.