A letter to my freshman self:
Dear Theodore,
Yeah, that's your name. For now, at least. Yes, you're out to your family. Yes, it went about as shitty as you thought it would. No, you're not confused. It's okay to like boys and girls, and it's okay to be a boy, no matter what mom tells you.
You might still be young and naive at times, but that's just who you are. Passive, empathetic, and the sweetest idiot you'll ever know. That doesn't mean everyone is the enemy trying to get you to be transgender to fuck your life over. You're gullible, sure, but being gullible doesn't mean your dysphoria doesn't exist.
That doesn't mean you don't exist.
Mom can't write off everything that points to you being honest about who you are as your friends manipulating you. She can't tell you you don't want a dick, that you don't want a flat chest, that you'd rather actually kill yourself than be a girl.
Only you and I know how many times you wished you could wake up a boy. Only we know how awful it feels to be called mom's "niña preciosa" every time she opened her mouth. Only we know how scared we were when she hit us for the first- and surprisingly last- time. That's for us to know, and us only.
They won't come around. They won't kick you out. They won't hate you, but they won't believe you.
I know you're afraid of everything right now, and you have every right to be. Coming to terms with who you are in an environment scared of allowing you to explore that and verbally abusing you when you finally get your shit together is terrifying. You have so much longer than four years to get your shit together. You'll get the haircut you want, the treatment you need, and the support you deserve.
A lot of your friends will leave for college and other reasons, but you'll get more. They'll make you smile when you felt like you'll never do so again, and they'll give you a place where you're safe and a part of something.
I know you never thought you'd make it to your senior year, much less survive long enough to watch yourself turn eighteen. The universe had it out for you from the beginning, giving you a predisposition for one hell of a freshman year.
Admit it, you thought you would be dead by now, and you did get close couple times. I'm proof that life is worth living. That trying to take your life doesn't just end the pain, but ends opportunities that come with waking up each morning.
And life fucking sucks. It doesn't get better. I still hate the way the sunlight comes through my window each morning. I still remember how that razor blade feels a little too well. I remember how you'd lose a battle to that darkness every night, how you'd give in just to have nightmares deprive you of rest. I remember all of it.
But that doesn't mean you're alone in what you're going through. I know you feel like you're drowning by yourself in all of that darkness, with no light to guide you, but I promise you'll find it. One day, we'll be strong enough to be that light for someone else who needs it.
Until then, keep writing. Keep playing music. Keep creating. It's the only thing keeping you alive right now, believe me I know, and there's so much more to write and play and create as long as you stay alive for just a little while longer.
So, try and smile some time you fucking loser.
Sincerely,
You From The Future.
