It's who you know.

I never took the future seriously
Because I don't think
I ever thought
I would live that long
Now here I am
On the cusp of 25
And no closer to
Anything
Than when I was 18
I don't expect anything
And I am my greatest hurdle
And yet
I want more
I want to heal
But wanting something
Is not the same
As going
And getting something
And I have trouble
With the "doing" part
I don't lack ambition
I lack motivation
I don't lack intelligence
Or ideas
I lack resources
Don't tell me
All you need is
A modicum of talent
To make your way
In this world.
What I really need
Is a dish
Of privledge and opportunity
And a cocktail
Of prescription drugs
To take away my greatest hurdle
And to know
Someone who knows
Someone who knows
Someone.

A break up.

If heaven is a real place,

Then it exists behind your eyes.

But when you sit there

And tell me

You want out,

All I can think of

Is I'm living in hell.

I didn't see that coming

But being near sighted

How could I?

You don't even shed a tear

And I feel far away.

My emotions are banging

At the door

But my heart is in my throat

and I can't keep them from coming.

We speak civilly

But I feel like an abandoned fort

In the middle of a violent civil war

I don't want this

But I know if it's is what you really want,

I can't convince you otherwise

And I won't.

I won't.

I have been thinking.

I have been thinking a lot about this blog lately. I still write often. At least a few times a week. But my writing happens primarily in the form of journaling these days. It helps me deal with my depression and anxieties, my queerness and my hatred of this queer body, my relationships and my relationship with conflict. When I was at the bottom of the ocean and thinking I would drown down there, I wrote my way through the entire experience.

Even though it helps me with all of these things, I have been finding it frustrating to write in circles and not really be producing readable work. I feel as though I have lost myself and I have lost my craft.

I thought, when I first really stopped writing a few years ago, that I was growing out of it and I didnt need or want to do it any more. I dropped out of university. I was very focused on my music and then my job and then coming out and exploring that. I watched my life do a complete 180 and I found myself in a codependent and emotionally abusive relationship. It took me a long time to realize that I was isolated from my friends and family, and unfortunately from my hobbies and passions. It took a diagnosis and moving out of that relationship and then months of quiet contemplation to heal and really begin to unpack what happened. I find myself now in a stable place, in a much healthier relationship, and missing my words and my music.

My hands feel numb with disuse. But I am playing guitar again. I am slowly building muscles that I have allowed to atrophy. My prose feels weak. Like a bridge built from popsicle sticks and glue. I want to write again. I want to publish eventually. I find myself now a queer, nonbinary trans feminist with a lot to say, especially about these experiences. It feels appropriate now with NaNoWriMo in full swing that I try and begin that work now.

If this sounds whiny or annoying, it probably is. I haven't written this for anyone but myself. Though this blog is public and on the internet, I find it quiet and private, far away from the bustle and constant circling of vultures on social media.

Someone told me once that I cannot look to find happiness in another person. They told me I have to find it in myself. I was a little younger and a lot more brash and I did not want to hear those words. Even though I am in a relationship that makes me very happy, with a person I will probably marry, I struggle every day now to find that confidence and happiness in me and for me. I wish I had taken that advice seriously, because it is so much harder now than when I was 18,19, or 20. Here I am on the cusp of 25 (ancient, I know, I started this blog when I was like 16), and just beginning to understand happiness beyond the parameters of a romantic partnership.

Hindsight is 20/20 I suppose. I am here now, battered and a little worse for wear, but I'm alive and still sober and queer and hopefully a little smarter and thankfully ready to write again.