And by the end of the day it is the people which build us who make us become who we are regardless of what we were and they change us, as it becomes some fucked osmosis where we specifically have to make sure that we know what would be taking and what would we be morphing into once they’re on top of us and it happens from everyone to everyone and people don’t speak of the people who have pushed us down entirely to never feel again.
And the nightmares the ones which you’ll always wish to be alone in would mean that we can never run away, becoming the metaphor of our mind box. And I still flinch from any blonde woman, wondered how many more people would I have to wake up until I would forget her and forget the odd time when you think sexuality is fluid and you realize you were just a gay man trying women again after being a child, because that’s how the brain is rooted, people seem to forget that sometimes it is a disaster for a being to be born in the wrong body that it becomes crucial.
I send Elijah a few more texts and he doesn’t reply as the coffee doesn’t even bother to cool down, as I keep stirring it for no reason, the two sugars long gone into the milk’s galaxy as people won’t ever see evil women as something actually evil, because people think a flower can’t be deadly if it kills ten frogs, then it should be hailed as frogs aren’t that pretty. That’s what I’ve been told. I take out the spoon and keep tapping the table with it until Elijah appears and hugs me tight, sometimes I hate that partners can read any face from orgasm to despair as if I were a book with all the annotations underneath me. Maybe I am a constellation. Maybe my misery makes the other stars.
“Did you bring the work paper?” I ask Elijah as he sits down and takes a sip of my coffee which has now gotten lukewarm from me staring at the pavement which people had been walking on.
“No, shit, man, I-”
“Mom told me yesterday that we won’t get one because I’m a trans man or at least because it would be harder.” I say through grit teeth, taking the mug from my husband, rubbing my eyes together, not bothering to drink.
“Shit, when did she-”
“You were asleep, I forgot her birthday so I called her at night since it was still day in Florianópolis. I woke you up later coz I couldn’t sleep, but I didn’t feel like talking about it, sorry, Elijah.” I say now sipping the tea and he just sighs, running a hand through his hair and then just putting his hand on my shoulder as I lean to kiss his wrist.
I think we’ve all got backstories stored in our pockets and blokes which somehow had managed to change us. It was before I even knew who I was and I could barely speak to him even if he had spoken to me. He had golden hair and I won’t even recall how light or dark his eyes had been, I’d still be filled with regret of not knowing and never telling him how I had discovered my sexuality due to him, how he had gotten me into Burroughs by solely being in school with him, him being in a different class and older. That had been all. People build you without them knowing it, they never know how much they mean and you’ll never know how much you mean to others. And it had never been about women between us and Elijah stares at me as I space out-
“look, if you think the meds aren’t-”
“They are, Angelo, they are, you’d be scrapping walls with your nails if they weren’t.” He smiles softly and soon enough my husband drags me up and we should be on our way to wherever he’s decided to take me.
It’s nostalgia which makes us human.
And it may be nostalgia of the worst as well. Like coming out for instance. I shake away memories. It becomes an art of pushing away your own repulsive memories because in your mind you’re always alone.
I don’t know why when I was growing up I would have dreams in a sort of 2D Mario-esque world, I would never return to the place and in a way I wanted my life to be in such way, but you end up looping in misery and I just take my time to choose in the newly opened pub which Elijah is far more interested in its existence than I am as if they would serve some other magical beer, but I end up staring at him far too long instead of choosing that he snaps me out of it, as the waiter arrives.
And I contemplate on happiness, if it does truly exist as Elijah keeps asking about food to the waiter and I can only count how many years we’ve been married and everything we’ve shared and it’s far more than a feast, but I become too shy to even tell him how often I’ve thought of him at work and ending up texting him nearly all the time, wondering if we would ever resume waltz classes and where would everything even go.
I always thought it was bullshit, because no matter how confidential you always end up blabbering it to someone and mostly it’s everyone’s partners, that’s exactly why we end up questioning them rightfully. And they always end up blabbering and when it came to Elijah I was the same, I’d leave some details but I would still blabber, and over loud music it seemed fitting as his eyes shone curiously, giving me a bit of jump just looking at him, but I held it, leaning a bit closer to the table.
“I found Elina’s boyfriend, was at some other guy’s really. Left her a note. Will bang on her door tomorrow, case closed.” And I had told him and there really was nothing else to tell and Elijah just nodded.
Sleeping at night becomes harsh and rough, as I wondered why had he hidden and why couldn’t Brandon just do a fucking clean break and what the fuck had even been stopping him from telling his girlfriend, what had been going through his daft head that he had even known of the investigation and not even be surprised at an open door and it always seemed nice to me that other people were queer in a way, because growing up all you’d see is really bad representations of gays and trans women on telenovelas and that had been it. There was nothing to understand yourself from`, just ending up torn and miserable, wondering what had been wrong with you and parents assuming I were a lesbian was even worse, since they couldn’t get one and one together and I didn’t know how much should I even scrap my finger tips even more on surfaces. Growing up was miserable, so waking up in a body which only partially was away from what I had wanted wasn’t such a big issue anymore. I had managed to find happiness on the outside, that I felt selfish for finally liking mirrors rather than throwing towels on them when I was growing up.
I turned around, feeling awful to wake up Elijah, but in the end I did and we talked until I feel asleep with his fingers in my hair.
I've been trying to head back into updating every two days and it's been hard because I've been exhausted but I love writing so that keeps me on track and I've been obsessed with this story because well the more I think I think of it, the more everyone comes to life and whatnot:) and I love Angelo to be honest and of course I get a kick of writing Brazilian characters.
I really discuss it a lot with Callie as well, so I do get a big kick out of it.
I ended up wrapping like 80% of this chapter today, so you can pat me on the back for that xD
The story ended up being rather personal and I know I discuss a lot in Blue/Jacket but it's still a different to my own narrative as is this one, but they're both my stories to tell on how it is to be a trans man really. And shatter cosmos in the first paragraphs kind of goes on how was it to be dating women and so on. And abuse as well. I kind of want to go properly in depth on female on male abuse here later on, I've started touching many issues here.
I don't always enjoy writing characters from places I've been from that's why it's more interesting for me to write about Brazilian trans people or characters because then I don't go as in depth on my memories and speak of Brazil which I also only do in Blue/Jacket, but that's about it.
I'm sure I've spoken about this before but I had met a bloke and we didn't talk much but he got me into the Beatniks and I was heartbroken because he was older, by a few years (can't recall now, I think like 3 years difference and so) and I was highly insecure, but he pretty much made me pick up the Beatniks and made me really the gay man I am know. I have no idea where he is and I am deeply thankful and just like I use different situations of my life, I guess I hope I will be forgiven for like two paragraphs (and one in the next chapter) based off emotions I've had xD but y'know a writer will write unfortunately/fortunately.
I slip all my characters into whatever mental state I am in, when I wrote this I was freaking out if my medication was working or not xD It is.
Scrapping nails is a shout out to the first episode of my Mad Fat Diary's season 3. It's heart shattering.
I had a dream once which was sort of 2D and as described, I wanted to write a novel based on that and I had an outline but I dropped it like years and years ago. Oh, well. It's a paragraph here now. I even drew a map of the places xD
I really need to find some dancing classes and shut up, I promise xD
I think I'm very honest and already vulnerable here so yeah xD
I hope you enjoyed it and please please pleaaase tell me if you did, I'm terrified about my fiction being liked