Show me there's still hope

On Friday night, I decided to play a videogame that you're very familiar with. It's been sitting in my library for some years now, and on Friday I spent the night on my PS3 with Final Fantasy XIII.

Within the last few days, I've been exploring each chapter blindly and thoroughly, but typically not for as long as that first night. So I'm not halfway through the game, not even at a point where I can pick my party members and leader. But for all the "gets good 20 hours in" I've heard around YouTube, I already find myself invested.

The battle system makes such large leaps away from the installment before, which we played some of together. Even the ATB system is different from what I recall. The multiple actions per turn took adjustment. Starting with Slow ATB fill helped me to understand how this and later mechanics work. Paradigms have taken me several chapters to really get, and I wouldn't call myself a master of them at this point.

I never knew the story of FFXIII. Again, YouTubers made it seem like it would be indecipherable without reading the datalogs. I find that, so far, it just takes watching cutscenes. Event datalogs are just narrative descriptions of the cutscenes, and they're well-employed in load screens to remind returning players where we've gotten. Many of the quips and one-sided chats that the party spouts offer great insight into the characters and their relationships.

The English voice acting is kind of wonky at places, but for the most part I like it. I have a hypothesis about the way Fang and Vanille talk, and I'm eager to see if it's right. Sazh in particular has a great voice actor, even if the lines can get silly. A point of ridicule would be Lightning's, "Get out of my house," during an argument with Snow. Instantly diffused the moment for me.

Speaking of Snow! Snow did nothing wrong. He and Serah deserve each other. I ship it! I wonder what the name of that ship is.

I'm less enthusiastic about what the game has thus far insinuated about Sazh and Vanille.... I was suspicious that Sazh may harbor unrequited attractions toward her. As their relationship has progressed though, I've come to think it's the reverse. I could be projecting on her though, because Sazh is honestly a pretty charming dad, even with the pessimism and gloom.

Lastly, nobody told me that these people have Personas! I know we weren't into the Persona series, buuut still. Winning them over and using them makes me giddy. Well, I rarely summon them since I'm so whelmed by paradigm shifts, abilities, and statuses that I neglect to scroll into the techniques. Surely they'll get better use from me in future chapters.

Since there's not much work to do, and I've got a lot of fight in me to work out, I'll definitely be picking up the game again tomorrow. I want to stay up with it on Friday again. There will be at least two more entries here about this game, I assure you. I'm grateful that my time with you has influenced me to play this game, yes even a decade late. Take care, and keep going!

Whoa sick

The world has been struggling with a viral pandemic since the turn of the decade. Governments and people are either doing very little too late or entirely overreacting. Authoritarian California is shooting at the feet, going as far as to essentially make all public loitering a misdemeanor. It's not worth poking the bear on this, since lives are actually at stake.

For weeks, I've been taking several precautions short of hoarding. I want to delay the spread of this coronavirus to my housemates, or avoid it entirely. One of them inundates himself for hours, twice daily, with coronavirus news. This obsession concerns me, since anxiety rattles the immune system.

Many are taking this time to call and write out to loved ones. As you can see, so am I. Wherever you are, I pray that you're keeping safe from the virus. Please be healthy, be happy, and keep going with a level head.

Two after midnight

I know you're not going to read this very soon. I'm not sure anyone will but me. That's fine. I sort of want to share huge updates here, but I only came here to type out something that I've been thinking a lot. So I'll do that and leave again.

Love you, bestie. Take care.

A Year of Silence

Hey there. It's coming up on midnight, and I figured I should just wish you happy birthday. I am almost astounded that I avoided writing on this site for an entire year. That's what you wanted, right? So consider that wish granted!

A lot of things have continued to change. I identify as demifemale now, and I'm going to weekly group therapies for transgender people. I went today, actually. I don't know when I'm going to start on hormones, but attending this group is helping me get there, which I'm very excited for. I'm going to put off surgery for at least a few years. I just find it so funny that you outed me as a woman to your best friend way before I even realized that I was on that side of the spectrum. If only I'd recognized my gender dysphoria for what it was and dealt with it properly, I feel that our relationship wouldn't have suffered so badly.

I got a boyfriend in January. He lives a few hours away, so we don't see each other daily. I see him every few months. We're in an open relationship, in which we make our own decisions on how to act with others on the sole condition that we tell each other completely and honestly about intimate and sexual going-ons. Kinda like what you and I had going, except he and I are on the same page. Despite being obligated only to tell me about his relationships, he insists on asking for my approval of his crushes and interests. He's very considerate and supportive of me, and I love that. I hope good people are supporting you right now.

Yesterday I went to a dance recital, and I caught your bestie's choreography for F+TM's cover of Stand By Me. It was so beautiful of a performance to see in person. The friend I went with also loved it. I certainly hope that's not the last I see of it; I'm looking forward to seeing it performed in January too, perhaps. Also, she would pick that particular cover to make a routine for... I'm quite proud of her nerdery.

One more thing, I started this thing the other week called the Plant Paradox Program. It includes a special diet that I'm supposed to follow, like, forever. I think it's going well, and I feel good being on it. I also stopped being vegetarian today, by steaming some shrimp and gobbling it up. I had to be careful not to eat too much meat too suddenly, though, so that I wouldn't get a stomach ache. I'm not just going to start eating any meat I can get my hands on, though, both because of program restrictions and because of my new philosophy toward animal consumption. I don't think it's right to raise an animal for the inevitable slaughter. But it is fair to hunt an animal in the wild because it has a chance to get away, and one should use the body as efficiently as possible. Hopefully my boy can get with me on this diet.

Again, I've got no cake for you this year. But you know what? Next time we hang out I can bake you a real cake, or we could bake a cake together. Or we could do french toast! Whatever you're craving at the time, we could try to whip it up. Take care of yourself until then, and keep going for love~

No cake

No scripted cake art this year. You can have that and more when you get back. Instead, please give a little gift to me: just smile. Thanks.

I hope that you enjoyed your birthday. Take care of yourself.

Papita passed on

My great-grandpa passed away this morning.

This is the first time I've experienced the death of someone blood-related to me. I don't exactly understanding how I'm reacting. I'm crying when I explain or when I'm singing to songs that don't even relate to what's going on. But not each time someone reminds me that he's gone, not when I see my mom or grandma teary-eyed because he's no longer here, not when I'd have thought I'd be set off.

Then again, maybe I don't need to understand. I'm just letting my emotions do whatever they want. I'm not trying to be strong or weak or anything. It's like my emotions are manifesting just as they need to, on their own, regardless of whether it makes sense to me.

What I do understand is that my great-grandfather is at peace now. I'm grateful for that. I'm also thankful that I was able to leave him last with a kiss on his forehead. I don't have anything to regret with him.

You didn't talk to him much because you were never so confident in your Spanish fluency. He was always happy to hear you greet him, anyway. For as little as you spoke to him, he liked you. I'm glad that you can remember him just like that. That's one of the points in his life that I like to think about. Thank you for helping to give that to him.

Playlist update

I still occasionally add to They Sing the Words I Couldn't Find. Tonight I made a bit of a different change.

Since the launch of the YouTube Music app, there have been new entries to the YouTube system. These entries aren't exactly videos, but music audio each with an automatically-generated descriptive visual with a square of art and the song details. Many popular songs have music audio entries, and since they're generated by YouTube itself I figure they're more likely to stay up. Another upside is that they use less data since they're just audio and a picture.

So the change that I did was replacing most of the videos in that playlist with audio. I let be the ones I couldn't find audio versions for, plus Rather Be and I Miss You because I relate to the music videos as well as the songs. Adding Who Knew happened last week... and I don't know how to describe the feeling I have about its accuracy to our situation. Agh. P!nk. I underappreciated her.

I'm up to a lot more than this, but I'm really too discouraged to talk about it here. Maybe another day. Feel free to ask me yourself.

Break the silence

Tell Her Before I Die officially supports the Suffering in Silence campaign for awareness of mental health and of suicide prevention.

After women's day

Last year, International Women's Day caused quite an upset in me. It didn't come out so much in my message about that observance as it did in the other message from that day. Even then, I failed to express my inner struggle regarding my identity. I remember how I felt then, and it was much different from how I feel now.

At the time, I chose to identify as nongender. I choose nowadays to identify as agender, simply because it's a more popular term that means just the same thing. I prefer to be called by either set of binary pronouns, and usually people choose "he" since I present as male. I have to admit, though, that I feel uncomfortable when people add maleness to me outside of pronouns. When they refer to me as a man instead of a person, for example, it bothers me. Even when the maleness is attached to a compliment, it pushes me off. I don't get angry. I just feel distanced. It's strange. I don't think I understand enough about this.

I felt alienated on International Women's Day last year. But then I'd been feeling alienated in general, because I was indeed alienated by you and others I cared for. No, it was more than alienation; it was rejection. I felt like a reject because I wasn't good enough to be celebrated that day. This year, though, I had a different perspective of International Women's Day. It isn't a day to celebrate femininity. I tweeted out who I myself dedicate Women's Day to: All the women who will not give in to sexism /from/ & \toward\ men, other women, & other genders. Yes, Women's Day should celebrate the victories of the female gender over sexism, even the everyday victories. From this view, I don't feel isolated. I feel proud. I am so proud of the women who achieve this.

And, as I mentioned last month, I found out that she isn't actually a lesbian. A year ago, that had been one of the things that had me loathing my own body. Now that I know the truth, my sex is a non-factor when remembering that incident. I have been able to instead reflect on my attitude and actions. I've realized that, somewhere along the line, I began to treat her only as if she owed me something, not as the dear friend I felt she was to me. After you and I are close again, if she wants to allow me to treat her differently then I will. Well, after all, it wouldn't do if I went through all this and didn't learn how I should change.

An online acquaintance of mine was very bitter on Women's Day. He was raped by a women, you see, and has not dealt well with his trauma; he doesn't act misogynistically, but he talks ferociously and angrily about women's movements as if they are inherently trying to oppress and reject men. I am glad that nothing so horrible happened to me, and that I am not so badly traumatized. However, it can be said that I shared the same view a year ago. Instead of lashing out, though, I turned on myself and reinforced those ideas of lowliness and worthlessness. I'm glad that those times are behind me. I wish they could be put behind for my acquaintance, too. I'm glad nothing as horrible as what happened to him has happened to me, and I'm glad that my trauma is not so terrible.

I am happy that I have been occasionally presenting femininely. For last Halloween, I crossdressed as my costume. (I walk well in heels!) At an event in January, I wore a dress for an evening, night, and morning. I felt very good expressing that part of myself. I look forward to doing more in the future. Thanks to the encouragement of others, I do not feel guilty about presenting femininely. I feel fantastic! I hope I can express this part of me around you, too.

In summary, my gender-related issues have been, to a large extent, resolved. Yes, I do still think my trauma has caused my change in sexuality, but I don't know where I'd start to reverse that and, really, it isn't bad in itself. I will try to understand my issues with being addressed as male, though. Writing here helped me to figure my depression out, so I think I should start writing frequently again to figure out that issue. Not daily, but whenever the issue appears in my life.

When you read this, I hope that you're at least happy that I'm trying to understand myself. And, like I said last year, the person you called your baby girl is still waiting here.

Hanging out in my head

Honestly, I dream about you much less lately. Or maybe I forget the dreams that you're in more easily. I guess I don't need them as much to keep me happy; I'm pretty proud of my recovery. I did have a dream about you last night, though.

We were just hanging out, you and I. We were sat at a wooden table at some well-lit restaurant or something. We sat across from each other, each a glass of alcoholic drink in hand. Yours was a crisp golden color. Mine was a bubbly and clear liquid. You went on ahead drinking and smiling, while I just admired you; it was the first time we'd seen each other since 2015. This wasn't your first swig of alcohol, clearly shown by the way you took it. You had been living on, like I am living on, and having your own experiences as I've been having my own.

I hadn't taken so much of a sip of alcohol yet. I've been waiting to have my first drink with you. I have faith in your ability to handle me being under that sort of influence. I hear alcohol removes inhibitions, and unearths how one actually feels. I don't want to show that to anyone but you. So, after remarking that this would be my first drink, I went ahead and put my glass to my lips. I drank a bit. I guess it was a show of my faith in you, but you wouldn't know it because I wouldn't mention. I was just so happy to be talking with you, drinks or not.

I had a dream the night before that, too, with you in it. I rode a brown horse with you, and you were holding me from behind so you wouldn't fall off. We galloped and trotted around some seaside area of town. That one seemed less realistic, really. But I guess I'm living on fantasies at this point, anyway. Little wishes to just spend precious time with my dearest friend.

Change

Hey. It's me again. I haven't posted since last year. At this time last year, I was hopeless. Now the very opposite is true, and this isn't the only thing that has changed. I would like to tell you about absolutely everything, but you don't read this anymore, do you? Since you expected me to hardly write, and I have fulfilled those expectations, you've put this place out of your mind haven't you? So I'll save the majority for when you talk to me again.

Last year, I finally decided to join tumblr. I created the blog #Keep Going for Love. It's a faceless tumblr that I hope provides a safe space for anyone, with posts that are funny, beautiful, understanding, inspiring, or caring. Sometimes political, which I consider "caring". What I mean by faceless is that I don't emphasize my identity, though I do link back here as well as to several of my social network profiles outside of my posts. So it's basically anonymous unless you actually care to look into who's behind it. I've had a lot of fun there. It's quite a different environment, and I've learned a bit and met very different people.

I follow just a few tumblrs, including a fair share of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy ones. I got surprisingly close with the person behind one of those KH/FF tumblrs, sharing interests, passions, and kind words for weeks without either of us even knowing the other's name. We even discovered that we both live in the same place, and we considered having a coffee date. Fate is pretty cruel though. This person turned out, of all possibilities, to be her, your best friend. When she revealed her name to me, I chose to reciprocate, despite knowing that she would probably stop talking to me. She didn't stop talking to me, to my surprise. She did talk to me long enough to help me sort out my thoughts, even though she slowly grew colder and colder until she began to ignore me completely. I'm very glad that she didn't instantly abandon me. I'm so grateful.

One thing I learned from her was that she is pansexual, not lesbian. I'm suspicious then that, when you told me she was lesbian in November 2014, it was your lie. I forgive you, if this is the case. And if it was her lie, or even just her confusion, then I forgive her. This chance meeting she and I had sparked a realization in me though. I myself am no longer interested in being intimate with a female. Looking back at the women I've dated since you and I broke up, I haven't truly felt so much desire for any of them. On the other hand, I've felt more intimate in the relationships I've had with men that certainly didn't have as much objective appeal as those women. If they had so much less to offer, then why did I find myself more interested? As much as I hate considering this an answer, maybe I've become too traumatized by the way I've been treated by certain females. I don't like the idea that I've been turned gay by something so negative, but I must be honest with myself for the good of my mental health. This at least requires more exploration. I'm looking for a local boyfriend right now.

I went to her last dance recital. It was dubbed Change. When I arrived before the show, I began to recognize this as a good time for closure. So I wrote a message, attached to a little plush cat, to her. I told her, as I recall, "Thank you for everything. You reinvigorate my will to keep going. I hope that same energy carries you through all your successes and trials." I wish that she's happy to have brought to and received from me these positive thoughts, and I'll leave her there. I don't need to talk to her anymore.

I'm still waiting on your conversation, though. I hope you've come to understand that "keep going for love" means more than to strive in the name of romance. There are many different kinds of love; even if my orientation has changed, I am still going for the other ways that I love you. Not everything changes, after all?

Thanks

Today was Thanksgiving. I heard you came into town to celebrate it. I made plans to visit my cousins out of town, and so there I am. I'm having a nice time here. I hope that you are doing well yourself.

There are many things that I want to talk about, while I'm talking here. I won't talk about them, though. I have one very important thing to state, in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

I am thankful for the time that you spent with me. When we were only friends, when we were a couple, when I tried to distance myself, and when I came to you for help. Thinking about it, all that time has culminated in me as the strength to recover. I feel that those days you stayed by me when I did nothing but emotionally drain you forged that strength into this will to keep going. The desire to live, to improve, and to hope... thank you for this.

I am always thankful for you. Today is just a good day to say it.

The moon wasn't so beautiful

I looked at the moon tonight. Supermoon lunar eclipse, won't happen like this again until 2033, all that. I walked out of the house and to the sidewalk to give it a look. It just didn't touch me. It doesn't feel like something I should care about at all. Despite that, I just kept staring at it. I kept looking out at the red rock. I barely looked away.

I wasn't really watching the moon. I was watching my memories. I was reminiscing on the time that we saw our lunar eclipse. Really, it was less looking back as it was letting those feelings I experienced with you return to me. My eyes remained fixated on the moon, while my heart went out to you. My skin against the cool night air felt instead the biting chill as I held you in the early morning. I stared at the moon as if it would soon understand what I need, as if that would bring you here. I let tears roll down my cheeks as if nobody could see me.

The moon tonight really wasn't so breathtaking. The only beautiful thing tonight, somehow, was you. Even after so much and so long, it was only you.

I've had this song in my playlist for a while now. Before I decided to let the moon be, I played it while I gazed at the sky.

Our day

If I hadn't broken up with you, today would have been our fourth anniversary. I'm not going to fantasize about what that would have been like. I didn't do anything special without you. I'm not going to write about the events leading up to my shyly asking you to the homecoming dance, which you immediately accepted. Even though keeping those memories makes me smile.

All that I want to say is that today I made an extra effort to be happy. For me, this is still our day. I can't let myself be sad that you aren't here. I can't let myself regret being unable to talk to you. The least I owe you and myself is to be happy on our day. This is one day of the year that we always celebrated our love, so this is the day that I need to recall even more that I'm still going because of that love. Today was never really about the passage of time. It's about looking forward to our future.

So, I did my best to be satisfied with what I have and with what you've helped me to hold on to. I can only hope that you had a good day yourself. Not just an alright day like I want all of your days to be at the least, but a day that was undeniably satisfying and made you smile. I hope that today you're looking forward to tomorrow, and that you sleep happily, feeling loved. You always are loved.

Let's keep going for love.

Descending a cliffside

What has helped me to get better is having the purpose of becoming better for you. I've wanted to become normal and more stable so that you'd feel that it's safe to come back. It's been like a path through these times. I walked and progressed along the trail, telling myself that everything must get better as I got better. It didn't matter just how much I could fix myself without you, as long as I kept going. Step after step, month after month, I have gotten much further than I imagined I would. Since meaning started seeping back into the world, the journey hasn't been lonely; many people have cheered me on and even walked with me along the way.

But I came across the end of that path. I feel that this is the best that I can get. That's alright. The path led me to the edge of a cliff, and I looked around to see where I needed to go next. This is when I saw that nothing had gotten better. Yes, I got better, but nothing aside from me had improved. There wasn't anywhere else to go, yet what I strived for wasn't there; you were still distant. There was this edge, and I looked over it, down the cliffside.

I knelt at the edge, and I said, "I won't die." I felt for footholds along the cliff's face. I found what I needed and swung my leg over, begginning to climb down. I am crawling down this cliff, but neither is there clear way down nor any way to tell how much I need to scale. I am desperately trying to find somewhere to plant my foot, knowing that I must proceed but having no idea how. I don't know what I'm doing, only why I'm doing it. It's so scary. I don't want to slip. I'm so scared.

Just as before, it isn't lonely. I'm being cheered and supported by wonderful people. But few feel that they can do anything to really help my situation; that is, to help us. I want people to help, dammit, not just cheer. There isn't a thing I can do toward that end, though. I don't know what to do, and I am so scared.

Chlorine

My mom is recovering from a shoulder surgery. She's going to physical therapy regularly, but I thought it would additionally be smart to get her into the water. Not just smart, but also fun, of course! We went to a community pool the weekend before last, planned to this past weekend but were rained out, and went today. It's proven to be a good idea after all!

My brother's swimming skill has diminished, though. He's still alright. What baffles me is that he can't swim to one end of the pool and back. He can run tons more than I can without running out of breath, but he has much less stamina in the water. One issue we resolved was that his armstrokes were too fast; when he slowed them down, he didn't have to hesitate to breathe, seamlessly breathing in the 4th stroke of each few. Next, I just think he's become uncomfortable with swimming. That uses up more oxygen, did you know that? Staying completely calm and still - the dead man's float - is the best way to conserve oxygen, but that's obviously not an option when you're swimming. Anyway, he just needs to rebuild the comfort to swim so that he can make use of his true endurance.

My mom has quickly been regaining strength in her left arm, the one that was operated on. She wasn't moving it much when we went to the pool the first time. She was able to move it a lot underwater though, of course. Being able to move it so much underwater probably encouraged her to move it more while on land, really, and that's probably what's led to her current strength. I nearly forget sometimes that her arm was injured. Except when I'm going in for a hug, because I screwed up and put pressure on her arm when she first got all the gauze off. Yeah, I got cussed and yelled at. I'm kinda glad you haven't around to make that mistake yourself, given how intimidated you are by my mom already.

The other week at the pool I didn't long for you too much, really. I was occupied enough by swimming around, monitoring my mom, and jumping off the diving board. I had also been in quite high spirits. Lately, I've been much more melancholy. Enough to feel bad, not enough to have too much of an impact on my normalcy. It was enough for me to bug my friends about it, not hide it from my family, and of course now to write a message. For a while, I floated in the water just remembering how we played in the pool. You being my fox leech and all, heehee. Wrapping your arms around my neck as I made futile, though usually half-assed, efforts to shake you off. I wanted that again, even without the sweet kisses you'd give me when I gave up. I was cheered up by a rousing game of tag with my brother. My mom wouldn't participate, so she became the base, offering immunity to tags and freezing the It person for a few seconds. It would have been even more fun with a third person, namely you, involved.

I'd include that cute photo of you rising along the wall from the depths of your pool, drenched hair concealing your face down to your lips, but I still want to keep the spirit of anonymity on Tell Her Before I Die. Given that you've put your pretty picture online recently, though, I think I'll post that image on my G+. Just tell me if you want me to take it down for some reason~ ^.^ Well, take care of yourself. Nothing for me to do but just keep swimming. I hope you're feeling well.

A dream that you held me

Last night I had a dream. I hardly remember what the dream was about or the places it occurred. All I remember is that, at various points in the dream, you came up behind me and hugged me. Not just a hug, really. You held me for minutes at a time. It felt so very nice.

In my dreams, I don't talk to you or meet your gaze. I try to pretend that you aren't there, because I don't want to reach out and unsettle you. Even when you talk to me or touch me, I stay quiet and avert my eyes. I've told myself that I would do this if I did run into you. I guess if I'm doing it in my dreams then I would successfully do it in life.

Despite that effort, though, I can't help the ways you make me feel happy in those dreams. I can't help laughing at the jokes you make, or smiling at the things you do. After some number of seconds sitting in a chair, you standing and holding me from behind, and having the biggest grin on my face, of course I couldn't help but rest my head back against you.

Could you make this dream come true soon? Honestly, it's the best one I've had in your stead.

Not so much writing anymore

I had a chat with a friend of yours recently. Well, she had a chat with me. She didn't say very much. She said that your issues are not being worked through, which is sadly not a surprise. You know about Tell Her Before I Die, but you haven't really read it. You want me to stop writing this. I understand.

These messages have brought me through the worst months of my entire life. They represented my hope when I was lost within depression, when I had no idea what was going on or why. They have helped me to think about and understand myself and what has happened to me. They've allowed me to let caring people know just how I actually am, and those supporters have helped to get me through this. As I recovered, their help became more effective.

I needed to write these messages. They kept me alive and made me well. However, lately I've been inconsistent with writing. I thought this was a bad thing, but perhaps it simply is a symptom of the transition in my state of mind. I'm not near the fringe of death anymore. I'm not overwhelmed by thinking a few months into the future. Sometimes when I write now I can't help but feel like shit that you haven't read to try to understand. That wasn't something that bothered me in the throes of depression. I just held on and hoped you'd read eventually, as the title of this collection suggests.

You're not going to try to understand just yet. According to your friend, to you this blog is nothing more than a creepy display of obsession. Does that hurt me? Not exactly, because I think that ignorance is hard to break from, especially when you're surrounded by it. But I cannot dismiss your feelings, even if they're based on blindness. While I'm too afraid of regression to cease my writing altogether, I will stop writing regularly. Not writing may slow down my recovery, but I'm comfortable enough with where I am to sacrifice my recovery for your own. Besides, it's pointless for me to get better if you won't.

I'll still write occasionally. Expect a message on holidays. I'll likely continue to think of you on my outings, so I'll probably come home and write about them. Some days I'll feel like art or poetry or recommending some TV show I just watched. The point is, some days I'll just need to write. When I need to write, I won't hesitate to do it. Just as my recovery means nothing without yours, the vice verse applies.

Dear, I am scared. I have been scared all of these months, in different ways and for different reasons. You're scared. We can get better though, and that's what I will work toward. You inspire me to improve myself as much as I can in your absence. I pray that you find a reason to get better as well. All I can do is stay weak and pray for you.

Importance

One of the ways that I can define my experience is by what I saw importance in. At first, I only saw importance in our relationship. Later, I saw importance in your happiness. As I recovered, the people around me became more important. At this point, I'm finding myself to be important again. I want to explain all that.

The first night that I told you that I should just die. I felt that, without having my love for you returned, there wasn't any meaning for me or in anything. I only wanted to get back the future that we had going for us before. I wanted us to be as close as we could be, and I thought that meant as close as we'd ever been. You said we were best friends, and I tried to grip that as well as I could. But I still didn't feel that it was enough.

On that Monday, we texted. I cried about how I didn't think I could take it, how I still wanted to die. There was nothing left to say about that, so I changed the subject. Monty Oum had just died, and so I shared the news with you and mourned a bit. This was the point at which I realized that my darkness was burdening you. I stared at our conversation. Everything felt heavy and not right. I started thinking, scrolling through your words, what you'd texted and what you'd vocally said to me. I remembered that you said to see a therapist. I called in and scheduled for that evening. Because I realized once again that your happiness was important to me.

It was too late, though. By the time I'd finished my visit, you'd been told to leave me. You left me. I reverted, kept trying to talk to you, desperately held on to our relationship. You became scared of me, and I became scared of myself. In the wrong way, I began to care about your happiness again; if being with me would only scare you, and I only wanted you to be with me, then I had to die. I would die, terminating the possibility of burdening you. I thought that was an overwhelming possibility. That was when I had to learn weakness, to ensure your happiness. I kept going to therapy to restore our relationship.

Dying was the foolproof solution to never bothering you again. Desiring your happiness motivated me to learn from this tragedy, but it also urged me to disappear. It wasn't enough. I had to convince myself that other people mattered. As I struggled through, other people did begin to matter again. Not just the people that knowingly helped me, but also the ones who made things better without a clear idea of what I was going through. Not just those people, but also the ones I helped with their own situations. Very, very slowly, people aside from you became important to me again. These people certainly wouldn't benefit from my disappearance. They certainly didn't want me to die.

After so many months of slowly seeing the value return to the people around me, I started caring about myself again. I stopped dieting to disappear and started dieting because I felt better to be lighter. I occasionally bought new clothes and wore outfits that made me feel like I stood out. I started enjoying myself not as a treatment but as a natural compulsion. I began to find meaning again in smiling and in my own happiness. Yes, I am important, and what I want should not always be thrown aside for the sake of others.

I don't think it's quite right to call this a progression; it's a culmination. I still feel that our relationship is important, though I know how our old bond needs to evolve. I still feel that your happiness is important, but it isn't worth my disappearance. I still feel that other people are important, yet I recognize issues that I have with them that I can't expect to sew up on my own. There are many moments when I feel normal, as if we were still together or as if we'd never met. There are many moments when I must acknowledge that I am hurt, and if I cannot be rid of it without you then I must manage it until it can be taken away. I'm not plunged into the waters of emotional trauma anymore, and I'm not the dry of its experiences which have soaked into my skin.

There are still many reasons that I feel unimportant. That's been the case for a very long time. There are still many things that I can't do for myself nor for others. The core things that I do are only for you and for us; for your happiness and our friendship. Perhaps it's just a fact of my life that its core is motivated by you and by us. Even when I'm finished recovering, even when you're back, this will still be the case. That isn't a bad thing. You're just incredibly important to me.

My hair

I love the new method I discovered of straightening my hair: putting it into a ponytail. My hair looks nice when my natural waviness is allowed, but I legitimately smiled at the mirror for ten seconds straight when I undid my ponytail today and threw my hair over my forehead. I just have always adored my hair being semi-straightened.

Objectively, I realize that my hair can be considered to look worse like this than let alone. It's kind of reminiscent of a small plant's thin roots brushed haphazardly. But I'm not really doing this for fashion's sake, I'm doing it just because it makes me happy. I like my hair being so bushy. I like how my bangs have a smaller tendency to fall into my eyes when I've done this. My hair even feels different on my head. Sure, my hair may look like a weave of tiny twigs, but I actually think that represents me pretty well right now!

I have had my hair properly ironed before. Just once, for my birthday, during high school, I went over to a friend's house and she straightened my hair meticulously. I've got a picture of it that I think I've shown you before. But whenever I iron my hair, I don't take enough time to really get it smooth. I like that look too, but the heat can damage your hair right? I stopped bothering to straighten my hair some time that same year. I do remember feeling very flattered when some guy in one of my classes said my straight hair made me look like a girl. I don't think my current hair makes me look like a girl.

I only came across this straightening trick because I actually wanted to try having a ponytail. I don't like the feel of that so much. When I'm sitting, it's not comfortable to push my ponytail against a headrest, which is a bother when I'm driving. Like, I already have to control a car, I don't want to control my posture too. I would just way prefer to lean back against the seat! And I like my hair in my face and around my head. It's not really a concern about my head being revealed, though I would want to trim the back of my neck if I were going out with ponytails more often. I don't fancy the feeling of my hair being strapped to my scalp. Finally, I'm constantly worrying about my hair getting loose. I can't help but imagine some rebellious hills of hair puffing away from my head. I just don't feel right when I'm wearing a ponytail.

I don't think you'd like me to wear a ponytail. One of my points of attraction to you is my hairstyle, after all. I wonder what you'd have to say about how I'm wearing my hair now. Also, can you relate? Anyway, I'm just happy to have my hair like it is. ^.^