musta na?
How are you?
Honestly, I'm doing great. Better than I've ever felt but you won't appreciate the reasons why. I'm thriving but you won't like the colours of the flowers I'm growing. I love myself now but you loved me more when I didn't, so I'm sparing both of us the pain by disappearing.
I'm curious to know why you choose to ask me how I am now. I wish you asked when I was 12 and spent the lunch break hiding in the washroom for the first time. I wish you asked when I was 13 crossing the street and wished for a car to run me over. I wish you asked when I was 14 and bought a stuffed animal that I meant to 'replace' me. I wish you asked when I was 15 fantasizing about kitchen knives at 6am on a Tuesday. I wish you asked when I was 16 planning my way to the top floor and researching how high is high enough.
I wish you asked when I was 17. Skipping school to buy what I need from the nearby grocery store. Visiting the library planning for it to be the last time I ever will. Getting home and counting the hours until it's time, finally time. Collecting every photo I could find and cutting myself out of them. Sitting in front of my mirror crying and using craft scissors to get rid of all my hair. Picking out the best outfit as it will be the last I'll dress myself in.
I wish you asked when the hospital released me. Instead, you asked me to apologize for hurting you and everyone else. And yes, I did feel bad and I still do. But was my first day home really the right time? I wish you asked before we never spoke of it ever again after that night. I wish you asked before you sent me back to school with my weird fucking hair. I wish you asked before you put me back in makeup and a dress.
I wish you asked before I stopped wishing you would. When I was 18, dropping out of college after only a few months. When I was 19, experimenting with femininity and trying to find ways to enjoy it. When I was 20, experiencing my first romantic relationship. When I was 21, intimidated by my first adult job. When I was 22, starting to accept the fact that I'm some form of genderqueer. When I was 23, moving out because I didn't feel heard and never did. When I was 24, dreading your message asking how I am.
I wish you asked before the appropriate question became ‘Who are you?’. I would have told you that I’m someone who is finally creating plans for my life instead of just letting life have its way with me. You would have known the Whys and Hows and Wheres and Whats of Who I am now. You wouldn’t even need to ask the questions before I start filling the space in between us with my answers. There would be no space at all. Instead, I now see the space and I double it for good measure.
-- M M --