One more eclipse.
Every piece of astrology media I’ve been consuming has been talking about how “Change is good! Change is constant!” and it somehow feels like a personal attack. I’m not sure what else I can change, so much has happened.
I will be living on my own soon. I keep striking out on apartments left and right, but I’m sure I’ll find something in time. I’ve been trying to boost my credit score as well as slowly toss things that no longer serve me/have just been sitting.
I dropped a poetry book in the mail for my mom, and with that, I’ll be out to her. The one that thinks COVID was caused, in part, by the united states allowing gays to marry.
Really.
It’s scary but, I rather live in a blunt truth than in a facade of safeness. If this results in prayers for my conversion, then I’ll have a reason to not visit her anymore. Not that I needed much of one anyway. I can love her without being in her life.
Plus, it’s time.
If I fall in love with another queer person, I think it’s only fair to at least be out to my family since I’m not in physical danger, and feel in a good enough spot to handle the emotional outcome. So, I want to make it happen.
I am putting a lot of faith in myself, and it feels really scary. I am putting faith in the future me who I hope will be continuing to create a community, to reach out to people, and to learn to sit with herself in quiet. With feelings.
I talked to my long-distance ex-gf recently. About how wallowing to the best of my ability has helped me move forward.
“I did it all. I made a sad playlist. I cried on the floor. Under the covers. I ate garbage. I got really drunk. I wrote things and ripped them up. And when I was done, I knew I had already gotten to the worst part. And it wouldn't have to be done again. I let myself feel it.” While they manage changes in their relationships, it’s been nice to talk to someone who’s also non-monog.
I miss Moon Girl. It’s really as simple as that. I miss her friendship and being in the queer community with her. Whatever the after looks like, I feel like I’m ready for it. If it’ll just be like this, something less or more.
The last therapist I had talked about me trusting myself, and I want to do that. This space has felt comforting. Talking to the ether, typing words, and seeing my mind be able to keep up with my hands: Something I can’t do when I write in my physical journal. But it’s another thing to keep up with.
This is the last time I’m journaling here. I have my newsletter for longer thoughts, I have a separate Instagram account for things I want to shout to no one and show a boob or two, and I have this space for poetry. And for the parts of me that are for me alone, to feel and to reflect back on, there is paper and a million cute journals to buy, notes app notes, and drunk voice notes I save for myself.
I release:
The part of me that's afraid to live alone. I’m excited.
The part of me that lies through omission to my family about my sexuality.
Not trusting me to take care of me,
I’ll be seeing you. ❤
