Solitude.

          Am I falling in love with the state of solitude ?

          Or am I drowning in the state of solitude ? I can no longer tell the difference...

          A mental breakdown... I screamed for my mom to stop the car, I threw myself out of the car, and I watched her and my brother drove away... I was alone, on the side walk out in the middle of nowhere, but I had to get out, out of that space filled with transphobia and violence. I found myself crying, alone, trying to call or text someone for help. My phone had 5% of battery left, and it felt like a waste of time scrolling through my contacts, no one could help me. The thought of having nobody to go to in a time of crisis just made me cry even more, harder, louder... Yet I still managed to collect myself, because strangers were walking by, and I had to present myself well. I had to look okay, I had to be okay. I forced myself to slowly walk to the nearest bus stop I could find, yet I didn't want to go home. I didn't know where I could go. I sat, alone under the bus stop shelter, watching buses go by, crying, screaming, desperately trying to find my place in the world. What is my purpose ?

          I know it's dramatic, yet I find myself helpless in times like this, and I'm forced to be reminded that I'm only 17. I'm still just a high school senior student, and going around to schools, talking about my coming out journey, spreading awareness for the LGBTQ+ community can be extremely emotionally-draining. Especially if some schools do Q&A where students ask some very personal questions in regards to my family life, my social life, and my mental health. Don't get me wrong, I love the work of Activism, and I am absolutely for the opportunities that I'm given, yet it's tiring, and sometimes it feels like I'm taking on the world all alone. And it really sucks when I find myself so lonely, so helpless when I'm so emotionally, mentally weak, when I just need someone to hug me, to comfort me, to tell me that it'll all be okay... 

          This state of solitude, so beautifully strong, so fiercely independent, yet behind it all, I am still sensitive and soft. After all, I'm still... wounded. I will be okay, I have to be somehow. I will rise, and I will learn, I will continue to survive. 

          And together we shall not only survive, but we will thrive.

          "Love will not heal me, but it will hold my hand if I ever heal myself."

- Healing, Nayo Jones