Thin Rimmed Purple Glasses Anti-Ode

I’ve been doing this thing where I wake up when it gets dark, play video games and talk with the cat and adjust the A/C and open/close the windows all night, make tea and take meds in the morning, and pass out again before noon.

I will pass out again here soon methinks.

I get on a plane Friday then I get on another plane Monday then I have roughly a week in Knoxville and I go back to St Louis.

I do not know what to do.

I accept that I am powerless to change many things.

What else do you do with them?

I accept that I cannot become comfortable in public overnight, that healing takes forever, that the people who make me feel loved live far away–even when we live in the same city–that I don’t have any formal-ish or dressy tops for the wedding and none of my clothes fit like they did last summer.

I accept that hell is other people and they are everywhere.

I accept the fear that made me lie forever about my gender, the same fear that kept me from transitioning until passing–hiding–was out of the question, and I accept the consequence of that fear is these new fears now, is my relationships now, is my body now, is the out-of-reach price tag of continuing to transition, is considering why would you want to eventually buy the privilege of nobody noticing you (because you used to feel safer that way, noticeably more anonymous).

I accept that my awareness of my fear does little to mitigate it; I accept that my awareness of my circumstances does little to change them.

Still I distance myself.

Still I type in these white fields.

Still I sit and game in the night and sometimes I wonder why I avoid the day.

The cat gives no fucks.

The cat sits and purrs in my lap because it likes my lap.

It leaves my lap when it does not.

The cat knows three things: things the cat likes, things the cat does not like, and how to tell me.

My cool purple glasses broke because they know fragility.

I can still see through them because they are not completely any single thing.

This is a cry for help, among other things.

Sorry if you, like me, feel you can do nothing.

It is morning–beware: another day approaches.


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