I have been writing a ton lately but not posting because of the many different topics I cover so this is an... armageddon of everything I have written JUST today. ENJOY CHAPTER 100!!!!!!!!!!
I am the first transgender person in my lineage to just...be.
I heard the tales of my mother and her twin brother. how they'd always confide in each other, "I feel like a girl." and "no way, I feel like a boy..."
one too feminine and the other too masculine
my uncle, my mother's twin brother, he died an early death. motorcycle accident. drunk driver didn't look where he was going. got off scot free. I often grieve for the version of him that never got to be my aunt, never got the chance at all to see me or himself grow into the people we were meant to be
my mother, so stricken with grief, that she stayed my mother. I often grieve for the version of her that could have been my father too.
my mom and uncle, it makes me wonder how many more in my family died never getting to be who they are at their core. it makes me wonder how many of them are hush hush about it, tape and nails and stitching trapping their hands and mouths from doing anything about it, how many of them look at me realizing it AND doing something and cheer.
I keep having this recurring dream...about a little boy I give birth to. curly blonde hair, brown eyes, white skin with freckles in all the same places I have them. and then I get dreams about this...OLDER girl. curly blonde hair, brown eyes, white skin with freckles in all the same places I have them. and each one of them recognize me as dad. and they practically look identical to each other. but I just have this feeling that I never had a son, that I have a daughter
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grandpa, I am obsessed with using filters that age my face.
I take my glasses off and push my bangs out of the way despite not being able to see very well
I do it anyways because everytime a useless app gives me a result I look just like you
to you, it may have just been the biggest curse that I bare your face. to me, it is the biggest blessing in the world to look like a carbon copy of the man I love most.
grandpa, I'm scared for the future. I have to leave this house and you know I do too. if I change my name, am I betraying you? if I leave this family, am I leaving you behind too? it's never you that was the issue, just my parents. god, if you could slap the sense into them these days
sometimes I consider changing my last name to yours, but you wouldn't want that for me. too many bad people are tied to that name. you and grandma are the only good ones.
grandpa, I bleached my hair today. it came out platinum blonde when it dried, though I didn't mean to make it that light. I look just like your younger pictures now, the pictures of a boy with a freckled face and light blonde hair, big blue eyes, and headed off to war. I know if you were still here, you'd run your calloused hands through my hair and tell me, "now you look just like me, but more than a little darker! dontcha, sweetheart?"
with that same big toothy grin I always hope I show off when I smile too. how I miss everything about you, even if you were already so aged and frail when we met.
I miss how no matter how old I got, your hands were always bigger and tougher than my own. I miss being 5 years old and tiny enough to curl up on your chest and nap. I miss the smell of your black coffee at 5 am and the sounds of you complaining about world events while the news plays on and on. I miss your huge collection of flannel shirts, and how each one of them smelled like I was still 7 years old and asleep in your bed. I miss your wire frame glasses, that always left indents on your nose and you'd protest everytime we tried to get you better ones anyways. your truck is legally mine now. I picked out an urn necklace for your ashes, a silver butterfly. because you always told me your passed on loved ones come to check on you in the form of white butterflies.
death is inevitable, I'm more than aware. but I thought you'd really, truly, be around forever. now I'll have to carry your framed portrait across every stage for the next 40 years, and hope that every kid of mine will know just how great my grandpa was and how much I loved him
and you...you think it's stupid when old people deeply in love for literal centuries tell you, "you'll know when you find the one"
"something about their eyes, the way they hold themselves, the air when that moment hits..."
god, I thought it was stupid too. I thought that love came forced. that it came fast, and it was unrelenting.
darling...when you know, you know. I can't find any other way to explain it besides the basic, "you'll just know", because I just knew. somehow.
love is...random. it is reckless, but it is merciful when you finally know. and also, so fucking slow. like unbearably slow. and sometimes it really does take years into your life to know, so maybe I'm wrong! I'm newly 18 years old, my hair will be pink, yours is dark red, and I know.
I knew when...this moment in 8th grade. they were in 9th grade. we'd only been friends for 1 year at that point, but we were already BEST friends, and we were having a sleepover
they started tickling me, insanely! I tried to fight back but that kid, they were always stronger than me. I only excell in being taller. we ended up rolling all over my queen sized bed, the corners of the royal blue sheet being pulled up by our fighting and endless giggling. and all of a sudden, they rolled on top of me, and we met each other's eyes
we met each other's eyes. anything could have happened in that moment. a kiss to anywhere, another jab at all my most ticklish spots, a gentle nose boop, ANYTHING. but we didn't stir. we laid together, hands held tightly, mine out of preservation for the air in my lungs and yours to stop me from punching you away from this unwon fight. and we just...stared right into each other.
eventually, they rolled off and I sat up, declaring victory. but that exact moment is the moment I knew.
"but WHAT did you know?!?!!"
not sure. don't ask me! in that moment, it was just a strangely soft moment with my best friend, on the one weekend we had together before I was subjected to the end of middle school and they returned to the start of highschool, 2018. but if you asked me now, I'd tell you that somehow I knew that those hands would be intertwined with mine for years to come. that I'd knew I'd never stop staring into those dark brown eyes. that I'd never have to endure a morning not seeing those red, rounded cheeks. that somehow, sharing a bed and being that close was entirely natural and also inevitable for us
today, 6 years after that moment, they bleached and toned my hair. we are sharing their bed and making plans for our wedding and our future apartment. when we sleep, they will accidentally kick me for most of the night. when we wake, they will get ready to go to the gym and I will take claim over their still warm pillow and blanket, and nap the morning away.
my handwriting is everywhere against their's. their clothes are mixed in with mine.
