Please don’t make me go home.

Today has been freedom. A beautiful day with beautiful people. A celebration of identity not in some party or special day but in the simple acts of being accepted, the simple “River”s and “ae/aer”s and inclusion.

My favorite part of today was the ferris wheel, because normally I’m scared of heights. But I went with Shruti and she showed me how to look out at the horizon. She took my hand and rubbed it across the carpet of trees in the distance, and all of a sudden I wasn’t a small body up way too high but was a giant crouched down low, and it felt way better.

Though it was a bit too bright and hot at first, the sun faded as the day went on. I saw the shadows move up and up and up the rollercoasters until they were covered. Fareeha pointed out that one of them had looked pink in the daylight but looked purple as the sun set, and I started to see colors all around me. The colors had always been there, but I hadn’t been seeing them.

And if I have to go home I won’t get to see colors again. I will never be a giant, just a small, fragile body. Powerless. Tiny.

It’s just about night now and I’m back on the ferris wheel, this time alone. The sky is purple with low pink clouds and loud orange fireworks from somewhere else in the park. The trees in the distance are soft with darkness. But I don’t feel any of it.

I am haunted by a sense of dread, and it isn’t from the heights.

I peer over the edge of my seat as it approaches the top. I feel dizzy.

I would die if I fell from here, wouldn’t I?