Not how are you, but where? Especially in a world where you’ve been displaced? Queer people, trans men like myself, or those who don’t otherwise fit within the rigid bounds of an ‘acceptable’ existence fight every day against the threat of our erasure. The fight is tiring, without a clear end. Your allies aren’t always visible, so you’re left trying to scramble together the pieces of your individuality that have been crystallized like diamonds under the pressure to conform. We're meant to forget the parts of ourselves deemed as “misfit, rubbish, or out of place.” Yet, even diamonds are too striking on their own, so we are again expected to crush that into fine dust, so that we might be blown away and be forgotten, leaving us simplified into the most digestible ghosts of ourselves. Ghosts, however, haunt. They don't ever go away. We find their fragments sparkling in the ordinary, the everyday. Shoe-crumpled leaves on the sidewalk, a faint happy face traced on a foggy shop window, the shadow of your friend leaving your dorm room. Hope still exists there, here, behind you, everywhere. It shows us there was life there at some point, that there was love, even if it’s “unconventional, misfit, out-of-place, rubbish”. I urge you to find it. You need to prove to yourself that love still exists. Put it together, collage it, and employ the playful rebellion against those who want to rip you apart again. Creativity promotes our elasticity, so that we might spare ourselves from atrophy in a world that threatens to erase "the wrong people." We don't need to hide parts of ourselves we've been told are corrupt only because they disallow us to fit inside a one-dimensional box of personhood, the unassuming vessel. I can show you what that rebellion looks like for a trans man like myself. However, you are your beautiful collage, and I hope I can encourages you to piece yourself together and find what ‘where’ looks like for you.