I wish someone had told you that belonging isn't something you find fully formed. You build it, slowly, with people who choose you back. Some of that family will share your blood. Most of it, in the end, won't — and that's not a lesser kind of family. It might be the truest kind you get.
Someone wrote a letter to their younger queer self.
Today, it found you.
with love,
from the future
15 letters have been left here.