I was hoping today wouldn't be so harsh but predictable events made it so. Days leading up to Pride and the day of brings back a lot of memories. Memories that are tied to past friendships and rituals, my struggle and then acceptance of my sexuality and the bumpy, jarring road leading up to the person I am today. I was good, surprisingly, with the constant reminders and ads on Facebook and formal dresses for women over 50
rainbow covered everything in the city. But some things happened to curtail the recent ... joy i found and held onto.

Plans fell through with my sister to go to Pride and while I understand her change of heart, I am struck with the disappointment bug. I got cute. My defined curls are popping. My moisturized, glowing skin actually looks amazing in the off-the-shoulder lace top I matched with my denim shorts and high tops. My warm toffee colored eyes are absolutely dazzling with the shimmering rose eyeshadow I dressed them up in. But Ive eventually dressed down to a tee, leggings, oversized denim long sleeve shirt and a cap holding in the volume of my curls. That spectacular feeling that surfaced early this morning has diminished by now.

To top that feel, there is uncertainty with my current relationship status. I'm not even sure if I'm loved and kept or if I'm liked but not as much anymore. I mean, to come back from a 3-week trip with excitement riddled through me and to be met with no hug or kiss and indifference to my presence has me incredibly saddened.

So take the current personal events and toss in resurfaced memories of fear, worthlessness, betrayal and hurt, you'll get yourself a very, very sad Misu on what could've been a great day to create new, better memories.

Happy Pride though.

Photo: taken in the 7th arrondissement in Paris, France.