I saved that song you sent me; I saved a lot of things. You never were straight forward, I searched for endearment in the smallest of things. Held onto every word hoping that in context they were telling. I remember going over the senarios in my head, the hopes, the maybes that were nos. I remember how silly it was but how happy it made me. I can’t tell you exactly what kind of happiness it was, but I remember the months being beautiful. You were an idea, not a person. A tease, a mindfuck. You were alwAys there. Not always. Not ever.
god i want the problems of a jane austen heroine so badly specifically sense and sensibility like oh no my dad died and my horrible brother left us destitute and by destitute i mean we only get to retain two of our Servants when we go live in a beautiful two story, stone house with a garden and farmland and caring if overbearing neighbors and it’s so sad bc despite attending balls I know I have no dowry so I’ll probably just have to marry for love ONLY instead of for love AND wealth as originally planned but little do I know in one month I’m going to marry rich anyway thank GOD life was getting hard having only two (2) servants : (
me: *goes for a walk by our wealthy young single neighbor’s house which by all rights is a Palace* oh no, I think it may rain……. *catches the cold in the rain and faints*
the neighbor, out on one of his brooding mid-rain horseback jaunts: >: O *picks me up and carries me into his home and insists to my family I shouldn’t be moved from his bed until I am well*
My home will be a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no name calling, shaming or blackmail. My home will be gentle, it will be warm. It will keep my loved ones safe. No fear, no hurt and no worries. I may come from a broken and twisted place but I will build something whole and safe. I’ll sing in the shower again, cook with a smile and dance in all the rooms. I will heal.
Someone told my ex-dad (not a sex thing; he just disowned me) that I’m trans and now he’s threatening to come to work and make a scene, and I know I should be upset, but like. What’s he gonna say exactly? And to whom? Because imagining a haggard and likely shitfaced Pennsylvania construction worker barging through the grocery store like, “HEY!!! THAT BROAD-HIPPED 5’3” EFFEMINATE KID WITH THE CONSPICUOUSLY BIZARRE NAME WHO SPEAKS IN A CARTOONISHLY AFFECTED CARICATURE OF MASCULINITY AIN’T GOT NO DICK!!! YOU GONNA BUY SCRATCH OFF TICKETS FROM SOME KINDA DICKLESS ABOMINATION??“ is wild. What’s it going to accomplish? Or is he gonna call my manager? “HELLO, I’D LIKE TO REPORT A FRAUD IN YOUR DELI DEPARTMENT. THERE IS NOT SAUSAGE AS ADVERTISED.” What the fuck.
Odds are he’s more embarrassed of having a trans ex-kid than I am of being outed at work, so what if I go to his job and tell everyone I’m trans first? What then, coward?
That’s such a power move.
This is exactly the struggle I’m having with my own mother right now and honestly? i sort of did that, but at the church i grew up in. my mom was like “oh so what if i tell the whole church youre trans” as if she had forgotten that nearly everyone who goes to my church is actually gay, like elderly retired gay couples, so i was like “haha okay,” and told everyone.
And lemme just say, watching a 5’2", 87 year old gay man stop my mother mid-sentance to say “Actually, I think he prefers to go by Aiden now.” was the BIGGEST dick energy ive ever seen.
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