I stopped smoking on April 6, 2018. Over a year ago now.
Even during some intense stress the past few months I’ve barely had any
cravings, but I’m sure as fuck having some now.
There are so many things I just don’t want to lose. I want
to start writing down all the goofy memories and experiences that should have
clued me in to the fact that I’m trans. I want to capture what I feel – not
really as much for inspection after the fact, but just to feel certain that I
actually felt it as it happens.
And I want, desperately, for this stupid shit I write down
to someday amount to something. I want some other lovely person to pick up a
book full of the inanity and prattle and pretention that I’m dumping out, and
see… something. I don’t really know. But I want them to be hooked, instantly
and irrevocably, and finally set the volume down hours later as they close the
last page. I want them to be a little sad because it’s over now. But most of
all, I want them just to feel… love.
Maybe it’s some kind of egotistical thing or an imbecilic
self-obsession with the idea of making some kind of useful difference on this
fucking rock. I don’t know. I don’t care. If just one, single soul can trudge
through the garbage I’m writing and walk away feeling like they deserve love,
then I will rest happy.
If you’re actually here, actually really truly seeing this,
I love you. I’m dedicating every scrap of soul I can put onto these pages to you. My truest, deepest dream is that
you might see things here that resonate, that speak to your own soul, that
finally say that you are not alone, you
never have been, and we love you. I want to be the voice of truly
unconditional and unchangeable love for you – the one you deserve so much, and
the one I never got to have.
These are the Trans Mission Logs of the Starship Gender.
Fare thee well, traveler.
No comments:
Post a Comment