I’m on the balcony of an Airbnb in San José, Costa Rica. The breeze is cool, the sky is blue, low mountains with villages in the backdrop of a half modern, half rustic, but socially progressive Latin American country.

It’s the eve of the age of Aquarius. My landlord came to check if I was ok. I solved an issue for my boss. Tomorrow morning I’m flying home to my family. But today I’m alone on the balcony listening to my favorite song. I know beyond a doubt my brother loves me and that we have both found our heaven. Last night there were gunshots on the street level but I can’t explain how and why I felt so safe in my room way above, behind probably four layers of locked doors and other families in the building between me and the street. Everyone is so kind and I dance and eat avocados and I feel healthy and my body feels good when I walk. Last night I called my friend and told him secrets that weren’t mine to keep. And I have waited so long to feel alright, to feel like my life is how I want it, that it’s an expression of my soul, and secretly for over ten years I wasn’t sure I would get here. It’s not until I’m here, in the future, that I realize how long I’ve waited, and how hard it was, how misunderstood I felt and how I didn’t feel like I belonged in the world. But now I’m here, I’m right here.

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