Time is a weird thing. Let’s take the year 2007, for example. If you’re anything like me, you’ll first think oh, a few years ago. Then your second thought will be wait, what year is it now? Quickly followed by holy crap, 2007 was thirteen years ago?
I have moments like this every now and then when I realize that time—as it tends to do—marches ever forward, and even now, it’s weird to think we live in the strangely futuristic year of 2020, without flying cars or teleportation, all the things we thought we’d have by now.
Back in 2007, I was twenty-five years old. I was a loud and proud queer dude trying to live my best life. I still am both of those things, though my loudness has lessened with age (or so I tell myself) and my pride is less of a chip on my shoulder—pride, I learned from drag queens, is a riot and we must live in defiance—and more of a state of mind.