I found it especially meaningful that my pink pen ran out of ink while I was writing letters this evening, because every bit of that ink was spent writing to communities in need. It feels like a small and beautiful thing to exhaust a pen in the service of support, solidarity, and the simple reminder: “I’m here.” There is still so much that needs to be said, so much care that needs to be made visible, and so many LGBTQ+ people who deserve to know they are not alone, unseen, or impossible to understand. I would rather write 10,000 letters than let one person believe no one is reaching for them. We have to keep finding ways to remind each other to stay. We have to keep each other alive.