Regret.

This should have been a day for an Exalted March for me. However, I am not in my old country any more, and thus I am not able to partake. It fills me with melancholy, a sense of loss, of chosen exclusion from my people and lingering despair.

None of these are good.

So, I write to convey my feelings.

I remember when the anticipation of an Exalted March had me giddy for weeks, if not months, in advance. I remember spending time finding the right outfit, a place to stay in the capital, traveling there on Friday the day before, then the actual Exalted March on Saturday, and going back home come Sunday. A weekend stay with one purpose only.

A religious experience. Being an Agnostic bordering Aheist means I do not throw this term around lightly - not when it comes to myself. So, having an event in my life that occupied the space where other people have religious experiences (of the good kind, mind you) has been a great deal to me.

And now I am no longer able to have them.

You see, the Exalted Marches takes place in Oslo, Norway. I am now stationed, or positioned, having moved too, or whatever you want to call it, in the Frankfurt area. By my own choice, I should add. They do not do Exalted Marches in Frankfurt - they do CSD (Christopher Street Day) parades. Without the common folk having the option to join in. It is a parade, it is all scheduled and planned out in advance. I understand this, as there are many, many more people located in the Frankfurt area than it is in and around Oslo.

Yet it leaves me devastated not being able to walk alongside those who march.

Why am I lamenting this today? Today is the day of the Exalted March in Oslo. It happened. I was not there. By choice, I returned to my partner so we could spend less time apart. My logical mind and my loving soul both support and agree with this decision. And still my heart bleeds right now.

I know the pain and hurt will go away. I know change happens and sometimes it is for the worse. But still I long for an Exalted March. This longing, this need, this unfufilled part of me that now must wait one more year can be felt very strongly.

That is why I am writing right now. I write to express myself, to process, to work through my emotions, and come out through the other side better than what I was when I started writing.

I'm sorry if this makes for bad reading. But you see, I never really write for the reader. I always write for the writer. Utterly selfish, I know. However, being able to express myself in this little corner of the Internet has been more helpful that I care to put down in words.

I leave with hope. A small, forlorn and treasured hope, but hope none the less.

And to all you fellow queer folk out there - Pride is but one month. Sometimes it is continuing through the 11 other ones that is just as important.