I never “came out” of “the closet.” And by that I mean, there was no single point in time when I decided to Be Myself. Instead, I just sort of… expanded. I oozed outward in slow-motion, like a ball of slime. I gave myself permission to break the rules I’d spent decades inscribing into my consciousness. I made out with people and then talked about it. This was awesome and mortifying and totally normal… and no one cared. It happened somewhere between 2010 and 20… the year I die? What you’re reading now is part of it. Part of the ooze. Because it doesn’t stop, it’s just an ongoing expansion. Like, first I was in the closet. Now, the closet is in me. I ate it.
