I'm not above processing my feelings in public (um, hi soup) but on the situation with Ukraine I have so many of them that I can't even get anything out. Not in writing, not in IRL talk. It's just too much. So have an installment of my usual trivial queer quandries instead.

Tonight there is a pride night at the cinema and I want to go. I love going to the movies on my own. But I feel like an impostor and a fraud. Like, I don't have the right to be among the other queer folk, the real queer peeps. Why not? Because 95% of the time I'm read as a woman, even though I'm not, and because I'm in a straight-passing relationship, even though the label straight doesn't apply either to my partner or to me. I feel shame over my complicated relationship with the closet. It's a TARDIS but not a fun one; more Eccleston than Smith.

My partner asked me, "Why do you think all the other people don't have complicated relationships with their closets? Why would they all have it figured out?" And I have no answer. I live in the tunnel vision of my anxiety.