acceptance isn’t always overwhelming joy at no longer being in denial. it isn’t always pride parades. it isn’t always a promise of freedom.

sometimes acceptance is crying yourself to sleep, fearing for your life, your Strong Song on repeat, trying to convince yourself that how you feel isn’t all that important. not as much as maintaining relationships, not as much as getting where you need to go. not as important. not right now. (it doesn’t matter that you die a little more inside each day hiding it.)

a lot of the time acceptance isn’t loud and courageous; it’s quiet, and painfully patient, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

and i want to believe that there’s strength in that too. 

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