Filed under: People to remember | Tags: Poetry, Sad Girl Poems, White Girl Sadness
“I want to believe that love is not about surviving with someone, or getting resources from them. Love should be more than that. Maybe there is love in the poems, the love that the narrator was capable of at that particular moment in time.
bell hooks writes, in All About Love, “Individuals who want to believe that there is no fulfillment in love, that true love does not exist, cling to these assumptions because this despair is actually easier to face than the reality that love is a real fact of life but is absent from their lives.” Maybe, writing and living as a queer youth, I was unable to recognize my ability to accept and reciprocate the love which was given to me. Maybe that is what’s captured in this chapbook.”
It feels like so much of this interview is things I want to say, but don’t know how. So many of these are things I’m feeling, or have felt, but I typically don’t feel like I have someone to say them to. Aside from places like TSF.
I’ve never had a desire to read poetry, in my entire life. This is a strange feeling.
The past few weeks have been really rough for me and I’ve been having a very hard time. I’m not suicidal, but my mental health has been worse than it’s been in a long, long time and I have to figure out what I can do to work on this.
The world is a horrible, horrible place and normally I can know that, without focusing on it, but lately I’ve been focusing on it an unhealthy amount. I’ve been thinking about Reecey, a Transwoman recently murdered in Kansas. I’ve been thinking about all the Transwomen that I know have been murdered. I’ve been thinking more about all of the Transwomen who have been murdered without anyone knowing.
I don’t want to live in a world where Transwomen are brutally murdered each day.
I don’t want to live in a world where I am regularly forced to think about my own death.
I don’t want to live in a world where I believe I will be murdered one day, simply for being a GNC person.
I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t use the bathroom without worrying about my own safety. I don’t want to have to constantly think “Do I have the energy to use a public restroom? Am I emotionally ready to have to defend my existence?”
I don’t want to live in this world, but I do… and I am not suicidal, so I’ll be around for a while.
I’m not sure where I go from here. I feel a little helpless, honestly.
I don’t think anyone reads this anymore, but for those who do, you know that I’ve never really wanted to be in a relationship. I’ve always done things on my own and for my entire life, I’ve thought that translated to my relationship status, as well.
The past several weeks have made me realize, I don’t think this is healthy for me.
I need someone around that I can pour all of these feelings into.
I need someone I can share every aspect of my life and all of my thoughts with.
I need someone who can help me process all of these things.
I need someone I can go out with and we can just look at each other and both know what is going on in each of our minds.
I need someone who challenges the way I view the world, but someone who won’t judge me for my (some would say overly) critical view of the world.
The scariest part of this, for me, is the beginning of each of these sentences. I need someone.
I’ve never thought this in my life. I’ve always viewed myself as a solitary creature. I’ve always taken a bit of pride in that, but I’m realizing, that just isn’t true. I *do* need people. That makes me feel weak… but I know it shouldn’t.
These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about a relationship that I could have had, but never allowed to happen. The past few weeks I’ve been thinking about this and I’ve been feeling so, so angry at myself for being so fucking stupid and not allowing this really amazing thing to happen.
To give myself credit, I didn’t think I was ready. In reality, I know I wasn’t ready.
But I am now. I think. I think I am ready, but I wanted too long and now that isn’t a possibility.
Joke’s on me, I guess.
I want to be patient. I want to say that I can wait. But it’s hard to wait for something that you feel like you need *right now*. But, I have to wait. So, I will.
I’ll just keeping listening to 1989 and thinking that every single song is relevant to my life and situation right now.
Filed under: eh, Faggot Rant, my head hurts., Rants, This town | Tags: friends?, saddness, Taylor swift
I am so, so fucking emotionally exhausted all of the time as of lately and I don’t really see how that is going to change in the near, or even distant, future.
I live in a world where each and every second of the day, I am reminded that people don’t think I should exist.
I can’t go into any bathroom, ever, without wondering what sort of shit I’m going to have to put up with.
At work each day, I work with young folks who are *much worse* off than I am, yet I have to try and convince them it will be *okay*.
But I don’t know if, or when, it will ever be okay. How the fuck am I qualified to try and tell people things will be okay? How much longer can I go on trying to tell people it will be okay, when I’m not sure when, or if, it will ever be okay.
I want to curl up and just cry all night long, but I know this won’t make anything okay, so it’s hard to justify that to myself.
I think a lot of this is coming from not seeing my friends a lot lately. Having this friend time is the only break I get in life, from being continually reminded that I shouldn’t exist. I need these people in my life to remind me that I belong here.
Without them, my emotional well-being is suffering greatly and I really don’t know how to feel about that. In my mind, I am such a solitary creature. But this past month has been a painful reminder that this just isn’t true.
I gotta make some changes in my life. I know that folks *are busy*, but I can’t go much longer without seeing the people in my life that are so important to me.
In very related news, I finally started listening to 1989 and this album is my everything right now.
I’ve been thinking a lot about L today.
When she died, we were both just kids. We were both 20 and still had so much growing up to do.
I’m spending time thinking about that and thinking about how mad I am that she wasn’t allowed to ever grow up. I simply can not fathom what an adult L would be like. She was such an amazing ball of energy, I want to know how she would have harnessed that energy.
I’ll never know. No one will ever now and that is fucking infuriating.
Filed under: lessons learned, New projects, People to remember, Projects, Southern life, The new hose, Thinking Thinking
This thing is 7 years old now.
I’m laying in bed reading a few old posts and I can’t even imagine where I was 7 years ago (physically, mentally) and it’s really comforting to know that at any point I can look back here and figure that out.
A lot of things have changed in the past 7 years.
I made a new friend and because of that person, my friend group grew exponentially. I still have all those new friends in my life and I’m really grateful for that. Some aren’t as present as I would like and I’d like to change that. But, I genuinely love those people and they constantly remind me how lucky I am.
One of my good friends died way, way too young and I was able to take all of that hurt and anger and turn it into a project that has already become much larger than I could have ever imagined. This project is now *my job* and I am able to focus all of my energy there. I sometimes worry that because it is now my job, I’ll begin to view it as ‘just a job’, but that has not happened yet. I work everyday to make sure that doesn’t happen.
I discovered the magical world of middle TN, specifically IDA. I don’t really have much more to say about that, but IDA will always hold a special place in my heart.
I bought a house. I figured, if I plan on staying here forever, might as well plant some (literal and figurative) roots, right?
I, for the first time in my life, began trying to dissect my feelings. We’ll just say that’s a work in progress.
I began processing my ideas of my own gender identity and came to a place that I feel really good about. On a related note, I changed my name.
I’ve had sex with a small handful of people. I ended up coming to the conclusion that I’m not interested in hookups with people I don’t really know that well. Not for some slut-shaming reason, but because having sex with people just takes so much energy. I want to make sure I’m investing that energy wisely. On a related note, I’ve only had sex with one person (multiple times, but one person) in the past 3 or so years. I think I’m okay with that.
Two dogs entered my life and they have become my very best friends.
I’m sure other noteworthy things happened, but these are the things that come to mind first. Here’s to another 7 years, hopefully.
I’ve made no progress in figuring out how to let down my walls, so that I can let people in.
Truth be told, I haven’t really worked on it that much.
I was talking with a now long-distance good friend about this and I thought of something that had never come to mind before. Maybe the metaphor breaks down at this point, but would it be possible that someone could just go over the walls? In my mind that’s a somewhat shitty and passive (on my end) thing to want, but maybe that’s just where I am.
How could I ask that of someone? In my mind the conversation would look something like this “Hey, sometimes I’ll feel distant, but I really just need you to help me push through that and force me to explain to you what I am feeling right now.”
Who the fuck would sign up for that?
Filed under: Southern life, This town | Tags: lesbian elders, Thinking about the past
Yesterday I had coffee with a small group of Lesbian elders and it gave me so, so much energy. One of them is the author of the book who entirely changed the way I look at oppression and intersectionality. This is the second time I have met her. The first time we couldn’t talk because I ended up breaking down and crying, it was too much. I was better this time.
We talked about the LGBT history of this town a bit, which I am ALWAYS ready to adsorb. We also talked quite a bit about this project I’m working on and they were very interested and had many kind words to say. I regularly get compliments on this project, but coming from this group of women, who have spent the last 30 years doing organizing work in this community… that just meant the world to me.
One of my friends let me borrow two LGBT (well, gay and lesbian) literary magazines from this town in the early 90’s and reading them has been incredibly fulfilling. I’m reading works from names I recognize, which isn’t surprising. I’m reading works from names I don’t recognize, which makes me sad. I’m reading works from people I’ve known, who are no longer with us. I’m reading works from people I feel like I know, but died before I ever met them. I’m reading these works from people in my own community who, in the past, did amazing work here locally and even I’m unaware of many of the things they did for me. I say ‘even I’m’, because I’d consider myself someone who is obsessed with this town’s LGBT history… yet, I still know so little. In the grand scheme of things, I really know nothing. I don’t know my own history and I know that many (if not most) of my peers know even less than I. I hate thinking about this.
I’m reading all of this and it’s a reminder that no matter what good we do in this world, no matter what changes we make happen, or help happen… we will end up being forgotten. All of us, just forgotten, like we never existed. Maybe someone will name something after us, or maybe our name will appear in obscure text. But, other than that, our memory will slowly disappear from our everyday conscious.
I’ve spent today thinking about this and it’s really upsetting. Is this just human nature? How could it be human nature to forget our past? To forget our histories? Is this a coping mechanism? Is this to keep us from thinking so much about the past, we don’t think about our present, or future?
Maybe, but I’m not okay with that. I want to understand what happened in this community before my time. I want to know all of these people. I want to know all of their stories. I know this isn’t possible. We’ve done such a poor job of documenting the local LGBT history, I really don’t have many options. I hate thinking about this.
I know I have a tendency to obsess over and romanticize the past. I find myself doing it all the time. I regularly find myself thinking that I was born in the wrong era. This is dangerous because in doing this, I end up thinking about all of the amazing people that existed in this community, who I will never know… but I need to remember that many amazing people exist today and I can’t forget about them. I can’t lock myself away thinking about the past, while forgetting about the present. Somewhere is a middle and I need to find it.