I am laying here on my couch, and I just fired up Hulu to watch a show for at least the 100th time. I’m scrolling back 11 seasons to restart Modern Family as the last episode concludes seemingly quicker each time I watch it from start to finish.

This has been a very full week. I celebrated Pride, I traveled all over Washington, DC; New York; New Jersey; Connecticut; Rhode Island; and DC. Tonight, I turn on Modern Family because it is familiar; it’s the middle of the night, and I’m sad and lonely.

I have many happy and exciting things going forward, but at this moment, all I can think about is that I’m alone and have no one to talk with right now. So I turn on this virtual family because, while I can’t talk with them, I feel I’m vested in their lives.

I’m comforted by all of these characters. They inspire me, they warm my heart, and they have a history of being there for me when no one else was. They are not escapist; they are where I have escaped to find a version of life that I deserved to have, that I never thought was possible to experience. I wish I had a grandpa who understood he had tendencies of a bigot but still chose his family over his ideology. I wish I had experienced a mom and dad, or dad and dad, who always chose their children over their own comfort. I wish I had siblings and cousins who would talk with me and see their value and understand when they were repressed and deserved to be free. But because I don’t, I live for a moment inside a show that captures my heart because the creators of this show knew what I needed before I ever watched an episode. Unconditional love from a family.