A rainbow bracelet rests proudly on my wrist. 
It’s my subtle, colorful way of silently coming out to anyone that cares to look.
Frayed strings brush against my palm as I type,
a constant reminder to hold back no more.

I used to live in black and white, in film noir.
I convinced myself that a binary life was a fulfilled one.
The bane of my existence became the presence of something more than 1’s and 0’s.

 I was convinced it was the loneliness,
a desperate attempt at filling the cracks.

But the loneliness itself was the only thing that ever spoke the truth to me.

Piano lullabies made me think of a girl with long, dark hair.

Love songs gave insight into gender pronouns,
and which ones I might prefer instead of my own.

I weaved colorful threads together by candlelight.
I experimented with unisex names, only telling people that had never met me.
My laptop screen reflects back to me the person that my mirror cannot see.

I daydream about the Emerald Curtain, ripping it down with my bare hands. 
I hold a rainbow flag loosely in my grip.
I do not need a security blanket to hide something that I cannot change.
Self-acceptance lies parallel with unapologetic self-loving.