Even if you're scared.
Even If You’re Scared is a podcast about showing up for your life… even when you don’t feel ready.
Hosted by Sil, a Black, queer, transmasculine person, this space holds honest conversations about identity, love, grief, becoming, and everything in between. It’s about carrying loss while still making room for hope—and learning how to live with both at the same time.
Some episodes go into the heavy things.
Other days, we laugh, talk about music, books, culture, relationships, and the moments that make life feel good again.
Nothing here is overly polished or perfect. This is a space for honesty—for the hard, the soft, and everything in between.
Occasionally, there may be special guests where we bounce ideas, stories, and perspectives off each other for deeper conversation and connection.
If you’re figuring it out as you go… you’re not alone here.
Even if you're scared.
It Hurts So Good
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Love isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s longing. Sometimes it’s distance. Sometimes it’s the people who stay on the phone with you while you cry, or the memories left behind by the people who don’t stay at all.
Episode 5 explores romance, connection, grief, friendship, family, and the quiet ways love continues to shape us long after moments have passed. From long-distance affection to the imprint of past relationships, this episode reflects on what it means to love deeply in a world that often asks people not to.
A softer episode about vulnerability, intimacy, memory, and the strange beauty of caring too much. The soft parts of love I can't let go of.
If this episode felt familiar in any way—like your mind, your room, your routines, or your quiet—you’re not alone in it.
You can reach out anytime at 7amkingsil@gmail.com or on Instagram @abstract_catalyst. Messages don’t need to be perfect. They don’t need to be important. They just need to be yours.
Everything sent gets read. Even if it takes time to sit with it.
And wherever you are right now—whether you’re moving fast, standing still, or somewhere in between—you don’t have to force clarity out of it today.
Just keep going gently.
Even if it’s messy.
Even if it’s uncertain.
Even if you’re scared.
You know, I miss the feeling of being close to someone. Not even in a big way. Just the small things. The way that someone looks at you like they've already decided you're theirs. The way a moment lingers just a little longer than it has to, a hand resting where it doesn't need to be, but neither of you move it. A subtle leg touch or removing an eyelash from a cheek or lint from a collar. Cute subtle things like that. Hi, and welcome back to Even If You're Scared, where we talk about things that scare us, things we question, things that we don't always get to say out loud, and all the amazing, crazy, messy shit in between. I'm still your host, and today I want to talk about love. And after everything I've been talking about lately grief, boundaries, trying not to lose oneself, trying to hold it all together, I realized something. I'm still a lover. And in retrospect, I don't think that that ever went away. Like through all of it, everything, that part of me didn't go anywhere. And if I'm being honest, this is gonna be a little heavy. Like I used to be really afraid of death. Not just because of losing people, but because I felt like, what if I don't get to love people enough? What if I don't get to say everything I'm meant to say or show up the way I wanted to, or just love a little more? And now I don't think I'm as afraid of death itself. I think I'm afraid of leaving love undone. I've always been like that though. I notice everything. The way someone says your name, the way they look at you when you're not paying attention, or when they think you're not, but you're obviously looking at them. The way something small just sticks. And I sit with that probably longer than I should. I replay it, I add to it, and yeah, maybe that's a little delusional, but I don't know. I kind of love that about me. Delusion in its best form. Like I can admit, I can admit when I like someone too. I've always been this way. I notice things, I get excited. One good conversation, and I'm suddenly smiling at my phone like an idiot. I start replaying little moments in my head, like the eye contact and the tension and the tiny things. And I know it's a little silly, but I think that that's the fun part about it. The butterflies and the heat on your face you can't control. But really, what gets me is the longing. Like, fuck the the longing, that feeling of wanting to be close to someone when they're not there, missing something you can't quite hold, like thinking about moments that haven't happened yet and somehow they feel real, or replaying the ones that have constantly, over and over. And I think that distance has been teaching me something these days too. It stretches things, but it also makes them clearer. There are days where I'm starting mine, and somewhere else in the world the sun is already going down for someone else. And that's a strange thing to hold, to be waking up while someone you care about is winding down, to feel like you're living in two different times, but still trying to stay connected and the same feeling. And I think that that's what love has started to feel like for me. Less about proximity and more about presence, even when it doesn't look like what people expect it to look like. A wild thought and feeling I've had is like loving someone has become kind of a religion for me. Not in not in a heavy way, not in a rule-following way, but in like a like in a faith way. Like showing up, being intentional, believing in something, even when you can't always reach it. Conversations mean more. Time feels different. You notice the gaps, you learn how to be close without actually being close, and sometimes that makes everything feel more intense. Like you're holding on to something that you can't quite reach yet. Feeling connected even when they're not in front of you and trusting that it's all still real. And I don't think that love only exists in romantic spaces. I feel it in my friendships and in my family. The way that someone checks in on you without asking, the way your sister understands you without you having to explain everything. That's love too. Even though it feels slightly different, it's still love. With my family, it hasn't always been easy with us. And right now, we're dealing with a loss that changed everything. I've noticed many things while looking at this huge picture of looking at this huge picture, and like one of the things is like the way that we're starting to show up for each other, it's not perfect or timed, but it's consistent, you know. We we check in every day, we reach out, our hands to touch each other in some way, and there's this effort and like this softness, you know. And I feel like we're trying to love each other the way that my mom loved us. The way that my mom loves us. Not the same way, obviously, because nobody can replace her, but in a way that feels familiar with like less judgment and less holding on to things, just loving each other wholeheartedly, and in a strange way. I think that that's been holding us together. And with my friends, like real fucking love, raw and honest, and where someone shows up for you and doesn't make it a big thing. The kind where someone stays and someone helps you heal, where they sit with you without trying to fix you, but also the kind of love that holds you in your worst moments and relives their own grief just to better prepare you for yours. The kind of love that calls you every day just to check in on your heart, that sends you money for a cupcake you don't think you deserve, just to make your day feel a little lighter in the middle of everything, heavy. The kind of love that stays on the phone with you in silence just to hold space for your tears when you want to be by yourself but not alone. And that kind of love, that's everything. And when I think about love more broadly, I think about people I've loved before, people who are no longer in my life for whatever reason. Some of them left, some of them I left, some of them just changed over time. And I don't really regret it. I don't think that I can, because I loved them fully when I was there, and in a way, I think I'll always love them. Not in a way that pulls me backward, but in a way that stays with me. A piece of them is still here, and something that I learned from them, or in something that they learned from me, and memories and habits and moments that shaped me, sometimes even in tattoos, and I've never regretted that, not once. Maybe that's also why I'm so drawn to candle work. There's a faith in that, and pulling something into the world and trusting it moves, that it matters, that it connects. And if that's what love really is, trusting that something can reach someone, I I think that that's beautiful, even even from far away. I think love has its way of feeling so full and so vulnerable at the same time. Because to feel it deeply, you have to let your guard down. You have to risk something, you have to be seen. And that's where it gets complicated because once you've been hurt, once you've lost people, once you've had to rebuild yourself, you start to question it. You start to wonder, is this safe? Is this real? Is this worth it? And I think the difference now is I don't abandon myself in love anymore. I still feel deeply, I still care, I still want connection, but I'm more aware of myself inside of it. I don't ignore the signs, I don't overextend the same way, and that doesn't make me less capable of love or make love less exciting. If anything, it makes it more intentional. I don't want to be less loving, even if it means I feel things more intensely, even if it means I get attached, even if it means that I'll miss people. I don't think that that's a weakness. I think that's one of the best parts of me. So yeah, maybe I'm too much, maybe I love too hard, but I don't think I'd change that about myself. Because even when it hurts, it still feels really good. As always. Thank you for being here with me. This is even if you're scared, where we talk about things that scare us and things that we don't always say out loud. I'm still trying to build this and be more consistent and honest about what I'm doing here. In a way, this is really helping me sort out some of the thoughts that roll around in my head. So if you've been listening or this resonated with you at all, I appreciate you more than you probably know. And if you want to stay connected or just say something back, you can email me at the number 7amkingsill at gmail.com or DM me on Instagram at abstract underscore catalyst. I do read everything, even if it takes me a second to respond, feel free to reach out. I'm around. So take care of yourself, be honest with yourself and keep showing up even when you're scared. See you next week.