Dear old self,
You will be confused.
You wonât understand why mom and dad refused call you âJuniorâ when you were 5 years old.
You wonât understand why mom and dad yelled at you to put a shirt on when you played outside with friends.
You wonât understand why you donât associate with your nameâŠ. But you will.
When you turn 14, you will become sad. So sad. And will go on medication. You will want to die.
When you are 15, you will start dressing differently.
Mom will be mad at you because you cut all your hair into a skin-sided Mohawk.
When you become 17, you will still be sad, but you have started to understand your internal feelings
When you are 17, you will steal your parents car, and drive to Florida.
Twice.
When you are 18, you will pack a small backpack and fly to Los Angeles.
You will become a musician.
You will feel lonely.
You will feel lost.
You understand who you are now, and you will feel defeated.
When you are 18 you will start taking testosterone, and buy an actual chest binder.
When you are 18, you will move to 6 different states to try and find yourself, crossing the country 4 times.
You will wear a binder for 7 years.
You will hate yourself for 7 years.
You will hide yourself for 7 years.
You will bruise your ribs, deform your ribs, and hurt your lungs.
You will experiment with drugs in Hollywood, and you will get too drunk too often.
You donât tell anyone.
You will be alone.
When you turn 22, you will buy an old school bus. You will travel the country in it, and see so many spectacular things.
You still feel alone even in crowded rooms. You will not have spoken to mom in several years.
When you turn 24, you will randomly meet a girl with blonde hair, and blue eyes in the back of a Target store.
You will compliment her on the Joy Division song sheâs listening to.
You will add her on Facebook.
You will meet for a beer.
When you turn 25, you will be engaged to this beautiful girl.
You will live with her in Oregon, in a big house of your own, with your 3 cats and 3 dogs.
You will buy another bus.
You will travel the country again.
You will get surgery in November.
You will never have to hide yourself ever again.
You will have found love.
At 25, in 2015, you will finally be happy.
Dear past self,
It gets better. I promise. Hang in there.
andulkaphoto
amandla
ellievsbear
gamechangershow
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
