There is Beauty Everywhere. Just Squint.

 

    When I was four, curled up on the couch beside my brother and neighbor’s son, we had Harry Potter projected on the wall, and I remember flinching. I flinched at the sight of Dobby and his rags: that dirty and long greying shirt. He was thin and pale. I pitied him, but I feared him more.
    My Nonna passed away when I was 10. We were incredibly close– I spent every summer, all summer, with her and my Nonno. They were like a second set of parents. She had TB (tuberculosis). It took her a few years to die, but I remember seeing her fade before hearing word of her passing. 
She went from colorful florals and yoga clothes for her weekly classes to long medical gowns and tattered greying rags. She went from overly healthy to thin and pale. She went from so full of life to not. I have this image of her in my mind; the before and after. Even fading she was beautiful. She still smiled, her perfect teeth showing, even a bit of gum. She still laughed.
That summer, 2019, I got really into Harry Potter, I sped through the first few books, rewatched all the movies, and read some fanfic. And as I rewatched it, as Dobby was on the screen, I cried– not just as he sacrificed himself, but as he stood, tattered shirt, skinny, kind. She, my nonna, stared back at me. I thought I was psycho for seeing my Nonna in a creature I was repulsed by. Like come on, if my grandkids think of me when they see Golem, I am clawing out of my urn and haunting them. But I did see her in Dobby. I saw her in books I never dreamt of and bags she used to hold. I saw her in everything.
    The thing about love is that it doesn’t just make you see the beauty in the world. It’s not about seeing the beauty in the world and being reminded of them. It’s about being in the world and thinking of them already. It’s about thinking of her and seeing beauty everywhere her spirit lingers.
    I’m not sure if my Nonna ever watched Harry Potter. I’m not sure that she would approve of my absurd connection to the house elf. But when you love someone you go a little crazy. But look at the bright side: the world is a little more beautiful when you let their memory live on in it. The world is a little better with love.

TW: Involves Questioning Sexuality

    Don't clown on me, but when I was growing up, I always thought sexuality was just who you were with. I thought that the sexualities were: gay, straight, fun, and single. In this same vain I thought that everyone was dating people, not genders. That women who dated men liked Todd for Todd, not for other reasons (or reason). That men who dated men liked Todd for Todd, not for other reason/s. And that women who dated women were objectively correct. As a little girl growing up with only female stuffed animals (with the exception of an inherited "Bob" from my mother), and who changed the gender of Italian words for feminism (migliore > miglioressa from best to besta), I loved women.

    Now, my friends, and nosey people, or serious instagram story-likers, will know that I am dating a man. I am dating a man, and I have dated exclusively guys since eighth grade. So what the hell happened to loving women? Well, a more accurate question that I'm curious about is: what am I? I've been practicing heterosexuality for years now, but does that mean I'm not bisexual? Well, according to mini-me, I've been mostly single and then straight. I feel a simultaneous guilt for not being directly punished for the systemic and social oppressions of the lgbtq+, and a complete lack of caring-- I mean, my whole world view until downloading tiktok was that people date people not physiology. But am I what I perceive myself to be or am I what others choose for me? What do I perceive myself to be?

I am the letter B, technically I'm Q or P, but I prefer the Bi flag. But is attraction enough to justify sexuality? Is love enough to justify identity? How can I claim a facet of myself that I have not engaged with enough? I don't really have answers for you, just a broken label maker on the floor of my messy closet, and I'm ironically still confused about identity-- I've got nothing to print. 

I'm going to arbitrarily end this here, I'm out of answers.