Izzy

The mirror stares back at me, and for once I don’t flinch. Tonight isn’t disguise or rehearsal — it’s me, stepping fully into the world as I’ve always known myself to be. The brush in my hand hovers, the last sweep of color sealing not a mask, but a revelation. My mind drifts, uninvited, back to those long weekends of playing AD&D and make-believe. Mike’s basement, Ria's eyeliner smudged, the three of us vanishing into Shenzora while the others chased touchdowns and cheap beer. That was when I knew: being just a boy would never be enough. How fiercely I loved Mike, how sharply it cut when his gaze never turned my way. Ria had him, and I had only the ache — and the truth of what I was becoming. Years blurred past after that, years of chasing the wrong hearts, of bending myself to fit, of almost giving in to the lie that I could live smaller. But I didn’t. I held on. And now, here I sit, breathing fast, eyeliner sharp, heart racing—not from fear, but from triumph. This is the proof. I never erased myself. I never denied who I am. And tonight, at last, it matters.