i’ve been trying to paint this picture of what the last 7 months have looked like for me and the conflict i deal with now, tonight i journaled about what that looks like and wanted to share. i apologize in advance if this is something that’s difficult for you to wake up to but i’m haunted with these thoughts at 2am.
i don’t know what i want from you after sending it—maybe nothing.
maybe just to finally be heard.
the last seven months broke me.
i cried until i couldn’t breathe. screamed until my nose bled.
my apartment fell apart around me. dishes rotting. clothes untouched. mail unopened.
i stopped functioning. i stopped caring.
the silence you left behind was so loud it swallowed me whole.
i came home to a quiet house and couldn’t stand the sound of it.
i was trying to stay sober—clinging to it like it was the last piece of myself i had left.
and then you brought alcohol into the one space that was supposed to be safe.
that was the final straw.
not because it was the worst thing you did—
but because after a year of trauma and chaos, i had nothing else left.
and the thing that still fucks with me is…
not just the comfort or the routine - i miss you.
the way you saw me. the way you never questioned who i am.
when my family doubted my transness, picked me apart with questions,
looked at me like i was someone they had to “understand” instead of just love—
you affirmed me. you made me feel real. seen. like a man.
that’s not something i can explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it.
that’s not something i’ve felt from anyone else.
and maybe that’s why i still feel tied to you.
because no one else sees that side of you.
no matter how much i try to explain, my family will never believe the version of you i saw.
they think you’re cruel, manipulative, dishonest.
but i think you’re hurting.
i saw the brokenness in you because it mirrored something in me.
and i wanted to help you heal, even when it cost me my own peace.
that’s the part i keep wrestling with.
the version of us that loved each other—the part that felt like home.
and the version that left me screaming into the void while you disappeared.
i’m tired of pretending it was all one or the other.
i don’t know where things went wrong.
i don’t know why you started running when we talked about the future.
all i know is i spent the last seven months trying to piece myself back together from a life that shattered when you left.
and now i’m stuck in between.
between the love i felt and the damage it did.
between wanting you back and knowing that doing so might cost me again.
between what my heart wants and what my people expect of me.
and somewhere in the middle of all of that, i’m just trying to stay above water.
so this is me—no blame, no demands—just truth.
maybe it helps you understand.
if you’ve truly changed, i hope you can hold these words with the weight they carry—not as a weapon, but as the truth and depth of what happened that you need to sit with and maybe have the strength to make right again.
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