I dream of being a ghost,
of slipping into shadows,
where no one sees me,
where I can fade into the dark
and leave no trace behind.
A life that is unseen,
silent,
unnoticed,
where I am nothing more than a whisper
on the wind.
But I am not a ghost.
I am a manâ
a man who walks through this world
with a name
and a truth
that is not always welcome.
I cannot hide in the corners
of the world,
no matter how much I long to be invisible,
no matter how much
I just want to disappear.
Because we are a small percentage,
a fraction of those who walk this earth,
and if we remain hidden,
who will know we exist?
Who will see the truth of who we are?
We must step into the light,
even when it burns,
even when the world turns its face away,
because to exist in the shadows
is to let them erase us.
I am not a ghost.
I am a man who must be seen,
because our existence is proof
that we are real,
that we matter,
that we have always existed,
even when the world did not know our name.
So I show myselfâ
not because I want to,
but because I have to.
To be seen is to say,
"I am here."
And we,
we are here.
And we will not disappear.