I Went to Pride Alone—Again—and This Time It Felt Like Power

Last year, Pride was the first thing I did alone.

And when I say alone, I mean alone alone. No backup. No partner. Just me, wandering through color and chaos and joy.

Trying to remember what it felt like to belong somewhere.

Back then, I had tried to go with Kevin. The relationship was falling apart, but I still invited him. I even took photos of him looking miserable. Not because he hated Pride, he just hated being outside, being around people, being asked to participate in joy. He was the saddest person in every frame. Everyone could see it.

So this year? Kevin’s out of the picture. And honestly, I knew I wanted to go alone again, but this time, I wanted to do it with purpose.

I walked down to Pride the same way I did last time. I grabbed an overpriced coffee (a tradition at this point), wandered through the same booths bursting with rainbow everything, and even saw a few of the same vendors from last year. The energy was still big, still electric, but this time, it felt like peace.

Because I wasn’t trying to drag someone through it. I wasn’t managing anyone’s mood. I wasn’t over-explaining why Pride matters or downplaying how happy it made me.

I just got to be there.

I didn’t feel lonely for a second. Pride is designed to make you feel like you’re part of something. So why would I feel alone?

I smiled at strangers. I moved at my own pace. I sat when I wanted to. I left when I was ready. I didn’t try to make it okay for someone else, I let it be right for me.

And even though I knew I’d be solo the whole time, it didn’t feel like a gap. It felt like a choice. A beautiful one.

Today reminded me that I’m not just allowed to show up alone, and I’m allowed to enjoy it. I’m allowed to want it. I’m allowed to pick joy, and quiet, and comfort, and peace. Even when it looks different than it did before.

Which honestly? Feels kinda awesome.