with love, from the future

Someone wrote a letter to their younger queer self.
Today, it found you.

written at 31 · to my 18-year-old self

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.

— Anonymous

written with my chosen people down the hall

with love,

from the future


15 letters have been left here.