I Still Believe (Brenda K. Starr) - day 23
Wow. Here’s a ballad earworm from that time, oh so long ago, when I was fumbling with my secret life, peeking out the closet doors in hopes of seeing others like me. Each time I dared, I got closer to the reality of what I was. No more asking god to make it go away, no more denying this was who I am. I could see, from my vertical peek out of the closet, two gay guys who lived across the street. So frighteningly close but so far, too far, away. And then somehow it happened; Greg called me (I’m still not sure how he got my number) and asked me if I wanted to come over and hang out with him and Vinny. I was terrified. But I was also desperate to interact with others like me, for the first time ever.
For those of you who cannot relate, imagine you’re the only human being on an alien planet, where everything is different from the vegetation to the people. You are the alien, and you have zero in common with any of them, so you do whatever you can to assimilate. But then you spot another human like yourself, a human with the same awkwardness and sense of despair. Of course, you want to interact with that random human to tell stories and hear stories and hope that, somehow, the stories interconnect. I wanted so badly to know other outcasts like myself, and here was my opportunity. And thus began my years-long friendship with my Vincent. All from the spark of curiosity and longing for a sense of community that was nonexistent until that moment.
But back to the song. I love this song for no other reason than it brings me immediately to this pivot point in my young adulthood. For me it’s not a love song or a song of longing for lost love. Nope, it’s love found, realizing I’m no longer alone on that alien world. Oh, and of course, the brilliant sound of eighties saxophones!