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?

Loathing to my name

There's a girl who held my heart
Who swore with me we'd never part
But when my heart came tumbling down
She couldn't take it off the ground

So I had to grow again
Having lost my closest friend
With time and distance came regret
Replaced her thoughts of when we'd met

To fill the void, the demons came
To sew on loathing to my name
Close her ears to cherished past
All to let the poor girl last

Satan, Satan, let her go
The wrath in her will be no mo'
Knots of hatred will unfurl
Freedom for our little girl

God will let her feel the love
And smile 'cause she's done enough
A pretty smile that keeps me on
Been keeping me since she was gone

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. ^.^

First day of your summer

Yesterday was your graduation from high school; congratulations! You revealed some really crap news, sure, but it's past midnight and I think we should leave yesterday behind. Let's talk about new and great stuff, because it's summertime!!

You don't start college until the fall, so you've got a whole summer to enjoy just as any gradeschooler does. What will it consist of, I wonder? Hanging out with friends? Hitting the beach? A road trip? An amusement park? There are so many possible ways for you to enjoy your summer!

I'm stuck with school through the summer, but I will do my best to enjoy it was well. You can even say that attending that recital was the start of it, though I really hope more of my friends will be able to accompany me to whatever other summer powwows I plan. You know, I've never done a beach bonfire, so that is certainly a consideration. If I can find gelatin-free marshmallows, that seals the deal! Yeah, an evening beach party sounds fantastic. I'm already psyching myself out here!

But you don't have to go out to have fun with friends. You can always invite people over to play games and/or roleplay. Even simply having a little dinner party would be nice. Oh, and there's movie nights of course. Don't forget sleepovers! Obviously someone else can host, and you can adventure to their dwelling to enjoy their company. Should physical translocation be out of the question, there's the internet! I'm thinking internet-multiplayer videogames, video chats, and some movie streaming.

I kind of see you preferring to stay at home, most likely to employ the internet to hold summer events. Ya little hermit fox. Okay, to be more honest, I'm afraid you'll forget to talk to all your friends! Yes, you've got a number of them. Don't forget, everyone wants to hang out with you! Indulge them, indulge yourself, everyone will be happier for it. To note, you're welcome at any event I organize. Just come along if you think it'll be fun! At any rate, enjoy the people who love you this summer. Maybe you could even start today?

Your eviction

So I heard about your awful situation. You're getting booted out of your grandparents' house for two weeks. I heard your mom's house is more of a junkyard than I'd last seen, and unhygienic at that, so I assume that you do not want to go back there. You're asking friends if you can stay with them for those two weeks.

I've known that your grandparents have a twisted method of ensuring your wellbeing. Their method is not actually helpful; it's destructive. I've known that I can't trust them with your recovery. Yet I had to have faith that you could depend on them for at least your basic needs. With this decision, that faith is now shattered.

You know how I've been saying that I can't get angry? I'm angry. I'm going to pat myself on the back for recovering so much that I can now get angry. Alright, done, now I'm going to explain, I am very cross with your grandparents right now. On top of ruining my life by misguiding you, now they're dropping you for two weeks because they think you're a nuisance? I don't care what the details are. They can fucking afford to keep you under their roof until you move for college! In fact, after they removed me from your life, I think you're their damn responsibility!

That said, I'd be happy to house you. I'll take the responsibility for you back. I'd give all the diplomacy I've got to get my mom to let you stay. Forget about the restraining order. If you were staying with me, I know you wouldn't turn that on me for no reason, and I know that I have learned too much to give you a reason.

However, a friend of yours told me not to expect you to consider asking me. I guess that means that, unsurprisingly, you're not any better. Still, I pray that you will take the chance to talk to me if your options run out. I just want you to be safe and sound, whatever course of action you choose. Take care, dear.

Friends, flops, fabulousness, food

I went to that recital I've been planning to attend today. One of my friends canceled on me, so I'm glad my cousin replaced her. Despite all my planning I still got to the theater late! Between traffic and parking being unavailable near the theater, which should have been obvious issues from the start, I didn't quite catch the start of the show. We got back-row seats in front of two parents who wouldn't keep their chatter between dances, and glares back at them did not seem to shame them at all. I seriously need to learn to plan to come to these dance recitals insanely early.

The recital itself was amusing. The littler kids made some pretty bad mistakes, and the bigger kids danced as wonderfully as usual. As you should know, she danced, and she was great as always. The musical skit at the end was even worse than last year, but it didn't exactly fail any expectations that I had to be honest. Between the dance flops, the dance fabulousness, and desire to be charitable, I decided to go ahead and buy a DVD of the show. I'm planning to be mean and make GIFs of the fails, while genuinely enjoying the better performances whenever I'm bored. Actually, if you want the DVD I'd be happy to let you take it.

After the recital, we visited the Spanish Villa. I couldn't help but make some purchases! I got a ceramic sake set, more for the sake I didn't intend that pun when I typed it, I swear of having something to serve various juices with and into than for serving sake. I also bought a really cute present for you! I'll keep it a secret until I can give it to you, why not? Hint, I can't use this present. Given your intimate understanding of what I believe myself able to use, that should actually narrow things down much more than it would coming from a normal person.

Given the purchase of the sake set, we just had to proceed to a Japanese diner. It's been a long time since I've used chopsticks, but I'm just as good with them now as ever. Turns out my cousin hadn't used chopsticks before, but she picked them up very quickly. Rather, picked them up and correctly used them very quickly. The food we chose was delicious and surprisingly inexpensive. The tofu in my food was very squishy though and most likely to split under the slightest pressure between my chopsticks. I wonder if there's a better way for me to have handled the tofu, or if I should exclude it the next time I visit. I'll leave that decision for another day.

My little brother accompanied me to drop my friend off at his house, sticking around with me to appreciate the $500 sounds of his new drum. We were also given a fantastic little performance to which my brother responded with much praise. You know he's impressed when he talks that much. Anyway, he just came to he could pick out a red velvet cake with me. I owed him and his friends red velvet cake, see, and they chose to have my debt paid on their last day of school: tomorrow. We put slices into little containers for him to take to school in the morning, then shared cake amongst ourselves and my cousins.

There's still a big chunk left, but I'm not even going to joke about saving it for you. Besides, your birthday was Friday and your graduation from gradeschool is tomorrow. I'm sure there's been and will continue to be a lot of celebration going on for you! Sleep tight for your big day!

This day's smiles

This day saw me smile.
This day saw you smile.

It did not see us smile.