I don’t like myself most of the time and I think it’s ok. It makes sense when you put together my familial and sociocultural puzzle pieces.

Everyone is a world and sometimes you just have to cry about it.

I’m going to write about something nice, because I need to cry.

I took the CTransit bus to go to the Harvard-Yale football game in November. Depressed and not eating, it took me four hours to get ready so I missed the Yale shuttles.

As I was headed there, this man got on the bus. He had a big trash bag of stuff and was kind of leaning. The bus was packed and I thought it would be better for him to sit down because standing seemed precarious. So I moved my bag from the seat next to me and he sat down.

At first I was exhibiting the general caution that my body produces when a strange man is nearby.

And then he closed his eyes.

And his head started tilting down.

And he just leaned on me.

And it was soft and gentle. This grown man became so small next to me and I felt like I was not going to die.

I couldn’t die. Because he needed someone’s shoulder, and there I was.