it's always them.

[raybear]

Sometime after lunch. Sometime after lunch I was actually working. Moving files, moving between my desk and my boss's office because she left for lunch and I wanted the freedom of walking back and forth as freely as possible. Sometime after lunch I was working, and I started writing a letter in my head. I wrote the letter I've always wanted to write, everything I've wanted to say. I recited passages in my head while my fingers felt for the manila folders and I pushed the paper around and pushed the paragraphs around, editing the letter in my head. Then I just slipped. I slipped, and I fell, slumped down into my chair, at a slightly faster rate than normal, with slightly less control. Nearly imperceptible to anyone standing nearby (though no one was) and I slipped. I simultaneously put my hand to my forehead and my elbow to the desk and felt my face start to crumple. Then my heart slipped.
Then I felt ridiculous for being at work. Ridiculous for being so dramatic. I sat up and kept moving.

If it's possible to cry for 0.5 seconds, that's probably what I did. But it happened so quickly, even I didn't notice.

Maybe I'll do it. Maybe I'll write the huge letter of everything. I'll be coming out as everything, everything I am, not just who I fuck or what name I use. I'll come out about what I expect and want and hope from them.

But then what? Then what will happen when they don't write back? Would that letter officially be the straw that broke the coffin? The nail that sealed the came? Why must everything be so ridiculous?

It's funny what I hold onto. Weird moments will resonate with me, and I'll hold them close to my heart for several weeks. Lately, it's been a random comment from Educating Esme that she made when we had dinner. She asked about my family, and I just gave a general update, basically saying I was trying to waste too much energy on them. And she commented that it was really nice of me to have a separate e-mail account that was gender-neutral. It was just a small thing. But it just felt good to have someone notice that I try so goddamn hard, because the people who I'm trying to help certainly don't notice. Or if they do, but they don't tell me.

So what do I want? Maybe I do want it all articulated. Maybe that's why my memory has been spitting out extensive long-forgotten entries. Maybe it would work if the letter wasn't really just for them, but if it was for me. Then even if I don't know where I stand with them, I would know where they stand with me and where I stand with myself. And maybe then I can let go. But I would be putting it down, not letting it crush me. Or letting it slip from my hands.


Tonight I need more home. Last night I fell asleep so early and didn't get much accomplished except dinner. Tonight I need to focus my energy on other things and myself. Get some reading done. Avoid the phone. Avoid too much TV. Go for a walk when feeling sleepy. Compose something. I have so many ideas I'm not getting out there, and I'm not going to lose them, not because of something stupid like they're behavior. Or my behavior. I'm not going to ruin myself, that's for sure.

Comments

[ex-fish.livejournal.com]

Sometimes I have the intensive desire to go find your parents, grab them and just shake them while yelling "Do you have any idea what you're missing out on? One of the sweetest, smartest, and funniest people I know is YOUR SON, and you're missing it."

*hug*