The water rushed over me. Pouring every inch of my skin, I felt at ease. It was as if each drop cleansed of my day’s sins. The water gave me a second chance. My senses reminded me that everything was, is, and will be okay.

My body argued otherwise. Once reassurance rushed through my veins, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Despite my best stare, it wasn’t enough to stand out. Like a ghost on a TV show, with its body so faded the audience sees through it to the back of the studio set. There I stood, blurred and unsure. Why, despite my best efforts, could I not be registered as whole? Could I keep blaming this on my circumstances? Being the youngest child? The only queer family member blazing his own trail? Was I truly living in the shadows, dulled enough by others so that I myself did not make my own appearance? Was this a disservice done to me by others? By my community? By society?

Or was it me?

Did I believe in myself enough to give fully of myself? Or did I hold back, and my confident exterior was only a mirage in my head? The faded image that stood staring back at me that I so desperately wanted to see clearly in front me?

It’s time to begin. Off. On.