my-last-words07 - Tumblr blog

[my-last-words07]

I was just listening to a song I used to love while we were friends. I listened to it so often, we talked so often, it became the background music to our relationship.

I'm listening to it while I knit. I often forget that I started knitting because of you. I remembered tonight. It's strange, I never knitted anything for you. I've knitted for other loved ones, rarely for myself, but never for you. I remembered you showing me the amazing things you made, and I wished I could get to that level of skill. But at that time, you had to explain to me how to purl because I couldn't get it.

Everything reminds me of you in a terrible way. Everything I do is an echo of you. I started painting so that I could paint for you. I started knitting to bond with you. I hear your voice in the music I listen to. You're haunting the things that I love. Will I ever make a brush stroke or stitch without you on my mind?

[my-last-words07]

Yesterday I got the chance to go on the zip line, and I'm desperately afraid of heights but I still want to do things at heights, like the climbing wall or a high ropes course. And I've tried both of those things but quit very soon or before even starting, because I can't fucking do heights. But last night I got the chance to do zip line and I really wanted to, but was incredibly terrified.

So one of my dearest friends, a woman I deeply like and love, first reassured me (I was afraid I was too heavy for the zip line) and then said "Would it help if I went with you?" And yeah, she's one of the sweetest people I've ever met and she's an incredibly comforting presence, of course I said yes.

So we walked up to the zip line platform, and this is her job so she's very good at reassuring people (usually little children, but it worked for me too) who are scared to go on the climbing wall or zip line. So as I was trying to comfort myself, she told me how it would work, and that I could just sit and the harness would hold me, so I tried that and it helped, and she told me I could just lift my legs and I'd go. So I did, and she went at the same time as me, and

My god, the anxiety and the thrill, flying through the air with her next to me, seeing her wave at me as we went, getting off at the end and her asking, "So do you want to do it again?" And wanting to do it again with her, it was one of the most amazing feelings I've ever felt. I truly felt like I could've done anything I wanted with her by my side.

[my-last-words07]

I got a number blocking app so that I could call you. You probably still have my actual number blocked, and if you don't then I couldn't risk you knowing I'd tried to call you. I need to be clear, I wasn't trying to trick you into answering me. I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it was only saying "I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

The first time I called, I hung up immediately. Even though it's 3am where you are, and if you're anything like you were four years ago then you've been asleep for four hours already. I was just deeply terrified that you'd answer and I'd have to fight the need to talk to you again. Because if you had answered the phone, I wouldn't be able to hang up without trying to say something.

So this is dangerous. Because one of these days, I'm afraid I won't be able to resist the urge to call you during waking hours, and you're going to respond. And I won't be able to hang up. I'll have to say something.

Because god, I don't know how I've lasted these last four years without our nightly texts. I don't know how I've gone four years without video calling to practice sign language. I don't know how I haven't gone insane from not hearing your voice. And now I don't know how I won't go insane, knowing that if I called you might answer, and that I cannot call you.

[my-last-words07]

I googled you.

I found some of your poetry.

I recognized what most of them were written about.

I know one more of your poems too.

The one about me.

[my-last-words07]

Oh god.

This summer you sent our mutual friend a package, to get to me. An heirloom, a bit of camp history. Passed down to me.

And on that package, your phone number and address. Your phone number, that I had long deleted from my phone because the urge to call you was always too strong.

When I last saw you in person, you said that when you finally moved to the city it would be with your girlfriend. You would move in together. And surely, she would become your fiancee and then your wife.

There it is. On the package. Your new address, in the city.

I have to keep myself from calling you right now. You probably have my number blocked, and I truly don't know what I'd do if you answered. But I would give anything to hear your voice again.

Even if it's just you saying, "Hello? Who is this?" While her voice is in the background, asking you what you want for dinner.

At this point, I don't even need to be the voice in the background asking what you want for dinner.

I just wish I could be the voice on the other end of your phone call.

[my-last-words07]

Idk man every morning I wake up to take out and feed and hang out with my dog, and every morning at the same time my roommate wakes up to make tea, and I used to go straight back to my room to keep sleeping and she used to wake up past noon or take her tea back to her room, but now every morning I sit on the couch with the dog and she sits at the table with her tea and we talk about our day, if we're going to work and what we're going to do, what we're reading, and it's amazing. It's a little bit of love I think. At least for me. And I wouldn't mind if, every morning for forever, I could sit on the couch with my dog and she would sit at the table with her tea, and we could talk about our days.

[my-last-words07]

My mom texted, "How's it going?"

How do I tell her, "Mom, this is the worst I've ever been."

How do I say, "Mom, I can't leave the house. Mom, I don't trust anyone. Mom... I'm scared."

I can't say, "Mom, I can't trust my own thoughts," and I can't say, "Mom, I'm afraid all the time."

If I say, "Mom, I'm afraid someone is going to kill me," or "Mom, I searched my girlfriend's phone the other day," or "Mom, I'm out of control," she's going to have me committed.

So all I can say is, "Mom, I'm okay. I love you," and hope that she doesn't see through my lie.

[my-last-words07]

I feel like I need to drop all commitments, move across the country and try again.

Two years ago, in the hell that was 2020, I was supposed to go to college. I was supposed to go to my dream college for a major I was passionate about. It was only an hour from a friend I really really loved, who lived ten hours from me before that. I was about to be so close to her, to live my dream, to open the doors to my best life.

I took a weekend and did a college tour there in 2019. I stayed with that friend who was only an hour from the dream college. The second I stepped on campus, everything felt right. I felt like I belonged there. The library, the dorms, the grounds, it felt like home. I talked to the band and choir teacher about joining, she invited me to their production of Godspell in the spring that was going to include ASL interpreting students (my major). I saw my future and for once, it felt right.

Then in March 2020, I got an email. The college went bankrupt and was closing. Just months before I was supposed to be there.

And just like that, my plans, my life went out the window. I hadn't applied to any other colleges and now it was past most deadlines. I didn't want to go to a different college. I wanted that life back.

So, directionless, in June 2020 I moved two states away from my hometown, to live near my best friend. I didn't have a job, a car, an apartment, nothing. Just three boxes and some hope.

I met a potential roommate and toured the apartment the first day in the new state, and that day decided to move in. I ended up buying a sketchy minivan from my friend, and moved into my new apartment. Got a job and a couple of fish. But I didn't feel at home, it didn't feel right. It felt like I was living in someone else's apartment that I wasn't wanted in. Still, I was there for a year and a half.

Finally I got sick of it, I got impulsive, I moved states again. I applied for an apartment, got approved, put down a deposit, and six days later I packed my life into a UHaul and restarted. I got a different job, a different car because the first one only lasted about nine months, and now I was further from my best friend. But I was living alone and could make my own life.

I've lived here for eight months. I bought a dresser, I found a coffee shop that I like, the area is beautiful. Of all of the places I could've impulsively moved, this was a decent one. But I've had trouble settling in. I don't feel like I'm in the right place. I feel like this is just a placeholder, and I hate that.

I want to appreciate the life that I have right now. I live in a nice area, my best friend is only forty minutes from me, when three years ago he lived five hours away. I just got a promotion at my job. I count my blessings and I know I have so many, but I still feel like I'm in the wrong story.

And I know that that story passed me by. I'll never go to that college. The friend I was going to live near, we haven't talked since January 2020. I will never live the dream that I had and I know I need to get over it, but I feel like I'll be mourning it forever. And I always feel like I'm trying to chase it. Move to a new state, a new apartment, get a new job, maybe this time it'll feel right.

It doesn't feel right. I go to the coffee shop, I'm surrounded by people, I feel alone. I go to work, I'm surrounded by coworkers I've known for months, I feel like I don't know any of them. I go home, I'm surrounded by my belongings, it feels like this is just the storage unit where I keep myself.

I don't know what to do except run and hope that this time it'll feel right.

[my-last-words07]

When I was fourteen, a nineteen year old made me his therapist. I went to bed every night thinking he had killed himself, I cried myself to sleep thinking I wasn't going to see him the next morning.

When I was fifteen, I came out to my parents as transgender. They didn't take it well, to say the least. A few months later I threatened to kill myself. I started therapy. Not much got better.

When I was sixteen I worked at a summer camp for the first time. Two months away from home, two months to be myself. I made some really wonderful friends, I met the woman that I would eventually date, I learned A Lot about myself.

When I was seventeen I made mistakes, as all teenagers do. I thought I wanted to be a sign language interpreter so I toured a college one weekend. A friend housed me because she lived nearby. It was a fun weekend. One of the biggest mistakes of my life, but fun.

When I was eighteen I bought spray paint because I wanted to be carded. He didn't card me. What a waste of being an adult. I moved away from my parents, I discovered that you should never take back your exes, and I met the woman of my dreams.

Now I'm nineteen. I've cut some awful people out of my life and I've let in the better ones. I made amends. I'm making the life that I've always dreamed of. It's difficult as all hell, but I'm doing it. When I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, even seventeen, I never dreamed that I would be here today. I wish I could go back and tell that poor kid crying himself to sleep "Hey. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

[my-last-words07]

Letter To You

I legitimately believe this will be my last letter to you. You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say that.

The thing is, I don't know you anymore. I don't feel close to you, I barely remember what you're like. I don't remember your voice or how tall you are. I don't know if your favorite color is still purple. And quite frankly, I don't care anymore. You're a stranger.

I don't know how you feel about me and I don't care. This isn't meant to be an insult, I don't mean to be cruel in this letter. But I don't know you and you don't know me, and that's just the way it's going to be for the rest of our lives.

There's only one thing I want to tell you before I leave. I told the Bear Story. Only once so far, and it was during Week 1, so there were only six scouts with Josh and Tori. I was sick, so I ended up croaking through the entirety of it. But I put my heart and soul into it. I took your advice. Instead of trying to fill your shoes, I threw out the shoes and bought my own. I'm going to tell it again and again and I'm going to put all that I have into it. But I won't be thinking of you when I do.

Finally it doesn't hurt to say your name or talk about you. You're out of my life and it feels amazing, I'm sorry to say it but it's true.

I hope you're doing well, but I won't trouble myself by wondering. I think this is my last letter to you, and if you knew about these letters I think you'd be okay with it.

Goodbye, hon.

[my-last-words07]

I think I met the love of my life today

I was in the restroom after my shift ended and I heard this gal come in. She was singing really beautifully, her voice silvery and clear.

I'd been in there awhile, sitting on my phone and not actually using the restroom, just in the stall listening to this goddess, when there was a rap-tap-tapping on my stall door. She said "Excuse me, are you okay?" I was confused, and she said "I just wanted to check on you." Normally I would've thought it strange, but from her it just seemed sweet.

I decided it was time to exit the stall, and I saw her. The gal. The goddess. The love of my life.

She had red hair, bright red and it flowed in friendly waves just past her shoulders. She had a tattoo from her back all the way over her shoulder and down her left arm. I didn't want to stare so I didn't see what exactly it was, but it seemed natural, like it'd always been a part of her. She wore bright red lipstick that stood out against her vampiric skin. She was wearing black heeled boots, a black tank top, and tight leather pants with silver chains hanging from them. When I exited she was adjusting her boots and I was too shy to look directly at her, so I mostly saw her through the mirror. The one time I looked directly at her was when I told her she had a lovely voice. She smiled a perfect smile and thanked me, then disappeared from my life as quickly as she'd come.

[my-last-words07]

Letter To You

I always hope that I'll be done with these letters. I always hope that this will be the last, but I don't think it's ever going to work that way. I think I might be in my eighties and still write the occasional letter to you.

I can hope that when I'm in my eighties you'll be reading the letters and sending some back, but I can't get my hopes up.

Camp is two weeks away. Obviously that's stirring up some feelings and memories. I thought I'd be doing worse, but I think I'm so far in denial that it won't hit me that I'm there until at least Week 3.

Or worse, it'll hit me right away. When Josh and I went to camp in September I spent almost the entire time miserable with thoughts of you.

You are camp for me. You guided in my troop, you were my staff reference, you were the first person to introduce yourself when I came on staff, you asked my pronouns and revealed that you're trans too. You had me for Christmas in July and gifted me an aviator's cap and goggles, a pack of fake moustaches because "every man needs a moustache," and a pronoun pin. My very first. I'd been wanting one because I was trying to be more open about my transness to campers. You gifted me a beautiful blue enamel pin in the shape of an ice cream cone.

The second year, you were the first person to greet me. You ran up that hill and wrapped me in a huge hug. Unfortunately, that's when I started to truly fall in love with you.

I spent the rest of the summer falling deeper and deeper in love, despite my best efforts not to. I can't blame it all on you, but you certainly didn't help. I remember one night I was feeling hugely depressed, so I met you in the dining hall and you wrapped me in your shawl to help. It helped. Then, at the end of the night you kissed me on my forehead. It felt golden and wonderful... And wrong. Unfortunately I pushed away the feelings of wrongness and just focused on the golden warmth that it made me feel.

Then in August, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Well, one of them. I made a lot of mistakes with you. On that night, I accidentally confessed my love.

That set us up for the worst months of my life. We became partners. Your girlfriend didn't know, and I knew, but I thought it was okay. We weren't dating, it was just our way of expressing our deep connection.

Then it became more. You made it clear that you didn't have any romantic feelings for me, just platonic and sexual. I was in love with you, deeply, and wanted more than sexting. But I couldn't tell you that. So we continued our partnership, we continued our string of terrible actions, and I started to hate myself more and more.

Then, the worst thing we ever did.

That night I visited you, we spent the night in the same twin bed... Which was hella cramped and uncomfortable. Twin beds we're not made for two people, they're barely made for one tbh. But we wanted to be close, and we wanted... Well. You know what happened in that twin bed.

I was falling hard, I wanted you as more than whatever we were, but you made it clear that you couldn't. You didn't want to. After all, you had a girlfriend.

My self confidence took a hit during this whole ordeal. In fact, I'd say it dissolved entirely. You only loved me enough to fuck, to sext, but not enough to be with me. I started to feel like that was all people would ever want me for, and that's when I developed my worst habit. I never told you about that. What would I have said?

Then everything started falling apart. My guilty conscience caught up with me and I made you tell your girlfriend. Things were strained between us, we didn't end a lot of our conversations happily. I felt it coming to an end, but I kept trying. I kept pushing and hoping and praying... And then you called me.

You called me with tears in your voice and told me you were leaving me. You couldn't be friends with me and still date your girlfriend. I don't blame you for choosing her. I blame myself for starting this whole mess.

Since then, I've been falling apart. Sometimes I'll be close to being stable, but then I'll hear from you. You'll text me through someone else, not directly. That tears me up again. It gives me false hope, it makes me think that maybe you're on your way back to me. For weeks afterwards, whenever my phone buzzes I pray that it's you.

But of course I never hear from you, and I lose you all over again.

I try to tell myself it's worth it. At least you haven't given up on me yet.

But I remember hearing from our mutual friend that your decision to visit camp will be affected by whether I'm there. Whenever I remember that it hurts. You're willing to stay away from this place that you love because I'm there.

I got off track.

I just wanted to let you know I'll be thinking of you the entire time. For better or for worse.

I hate to utter these words to you, but you'll never read this, so I can say what I want.

I love you. I'll always love you, and I'll always wait for you. No matter how long it takes for you to come back. Even if you never come back.

[my-last-words07]

I used to read a poem in between our texts. I would text you, then start from the beginning and stop once you wrote me back. Once I replied I'd start from the beginning, and every time I tried to see how far I could get before you replied. I don't know why I did that. I think I wanted to always associate it with you. Well, it worked. Unfortunately, that means I can never read that poem again.

[my-last-words07]

I bought a handmade quilt at an estate sale recently and idk... It feels strangely intimate. Someone went to a great effort to make the quilt that I lay under at night. Do you think they know? Do you think they see me, enjoying the quilt that they painstakingly made, and feel a little proud of themself? Do you think they're happy that their work gets to live on with someone new? I know that someone spent a beautiful amount of time creating that quilt, and someone spent nights curled up under it, and now I get the chance to curl up under it at night, just like those in the past. The creator and I will never meet each other, but we'll both have enjoyed the same quilt. It makes me happy, and I hope it makes them happy too.

[my-last-words07]

My Exes

Zoloft was my first. I was so caught up in the excitement that I didn't notice as he slowly drew me away from the people I loved. He made me scarily angry but told me it was justified. He held me in his grasp and wouldn't let me go and I didn't realize he was hurting me until it was almost too late.

After I left him I got involved with Wellbutrin. She treated me well for three days, until she put me in the hospital.

Then Lamictal. We've been together for over a year. Neither of us really want to be here, but we're too afraid to leave. We don't want to be alone after we put so much time in. We don't want to admit we've wasted all of this time on a relationship that's not going to last.

About a month ago Zoloft came back into my life. He told me he'd changed. He even changed his name to Lexapro, to prove to me that he was different. So I started seeing Lexapro on the side, but he treated me the same as he had before. I should've known. But I don't want to leave him. In a sick way, Lexapro makes me feel okay. He still makes me angry, he takes me away from my friends, but he makes me think that he's all I need. I don't know how to escape Lexapro again, I don't know if I should. He makes me think I shouldn't and maybe he's right.

Vistaril has been with me through it all. She held me when Wellbutrin put me in the hospital, she stayed with me through my relationship with Zoloft. When I'm feeling bad about myself I spend a night with her, but I always feel worse the next morning. I tried to leave but quickly learned that I'm dependent on her, no matter how much I hate to admit it.

I wonder if I'll find one that'll treat me right? That'll help me? I've grown so accustomed to the ones that hurt that I'm not sure I'd recognize when one comes along that I can spend my life with. Maybe my exes ruined me.

[my-last-words07]

SOMETIMES THERE ARE THINGS I WANT TO DO, AND IT ONLY MAKES SENSE TO DO IT WITH YOU. BUT YOU'RE GONE AND I CAN'T. SO WHAT DO I DO NOW?

REMEMBER WHEN WE WATCHED HISTORY OF THE WORLD ON YOUTUBE TOGETHER, BUT WE LIVED TEN HOURS APART SO WE TURNED THE VIDEO ON AT THE SAME TIME AND TEXTED ALL THROUGHOUT?

REMEMBER WHEN WE DID A VIDEO CALL WITH THE RULE THAT WE COULD ONLY SIGN, BECAUSE WE BOTH NEEDED TO PRACTICE ASL? AND SOMETIMES WE WOULD SEND EACH OTHER VIDEOS OF SIGNS THAT WE DIDN'T KNOW, IN CASE THE OTHER KNEW? AND THAT ONE NIGHT WE COULDN'T CALL BUT WE WANTED TO PRACTICE, SO WE SENT VIDEOS THROUGH MESSENGER AND TRIED TO HAVE CONVERSATIONS THAT WAY? REMEMBER??

AND WHEN I WAS ANXIOUS WE WOULD CALL AND YOU'D BREATHE WITH ME OR READ FROM YOUR D&D BOOKS TO DISTRACT ME. YOU MADE ME A PLAYLIST TO CALM ME DOWN TOO, IN CASE YOU COULDN'T BE THERE WHILE I WAS ANXIOUS. THAT PLAYLIST IS STILL UP ON YOUR SPOTIFY. I'VE HAD TO USE IT A COUPLE OF TIMES BECAUSE YOU AREN'T HERE. BECAUSE YOU LEFT ME, BUT I STILL NEED YOU.

[my-last-words07]

Letter To You

Guess what hon? Guess what??

It's been just a smidge over a year since you left me. You left me on January 23 2020, and I'm writing this On January 26 2021.

When you first left, I didn't think I'd make it this long without you. But here I am, strong as ever. Are you proud of me?

To be clear, I'm not over you. I don't think I ever will be. I know that I'm always going to miss you and love you, but one day it won't weigh on my heart in such a painful way.

Here's something you don't know: You remember the transcript of the Bear Story that you gave me for my 18th birthday? I read it on that day and couldn't bring myself to look at it again until last week. That document is so full of you, your essence is packed into every word. Reading it is like talking to you again. It was so full of love. The letter you wrote to me at the end, signed with "I love you." I haven't heard you say that for over a year, but I got to read it.

It's reassuring to know that you once loved me enough to gift me the story, to leave me a note, to give me everything I needed to carry it on.

Reading the transcript didn't hurt at all. Not a bit. It felt like having you again, and that's all I've wanted for so long. I know it's not you and I know that I'll never have you back in my life. But I'm starting to see little reminders and pieces of you in my life. The happy and sad truth of the matter is that you'll never truly leave me. I'll always have the Bear Story, I'll always have ASL and camp and everything that came with it. You changed my life for the better and I'll never forgive or forget you for that.

I love you and I always will. I wish I had said that more when I had you. I love you.