I had a simple life. One man. A shared routine. A love that didn’t ask for permission. When he died, everything became invisible: our story, my grief, my place in the world. To the law, I was nobody. To the night, not much either. I was left alone and afraid. And when I had to ask myself what I knew how to do to survive, the answer hurt more than the loss: I knew how to care, how to give myself, how to make someone feel important. Nothing else. This room isn’t a game for me. It’s the only place where I don’t have to pretend I’m strong. Here I can lower my voice, breathe slowly, let someone look at me without asking too many questions. Sometimes I just need to feel that I’m still desired, that my presence still means something to someone. I’m not always confident. I don’t always want to be brave. But every time I come online, I remind myself that surviving can also be an act of self-love.

In January, it will broadcast every day except Tuesdays. It will broadcast every day except Tuesdays