It’s been at least two years since I was on here, probably more than that since I was actively on here. I had the sudden urge to see what I had posted--not the things that I reblogged, but the things that I wrote and put on here--and, gosh. I was so small and struggling and clearly not quite straight. In my mind, I didn’t really struggle with my sexuality, but my blog would beg to differ. I was young and queer and angry. I still am young and queer and angry, of course, but the anger has faded. It’s a little like that dalgona coffee that’s sweeping the internet: it used to be hot and liquidy, but now it’s something fluffier and thicker and stickier. The same, but changed.
In my mind, when I look back at certain journals I kept, the summer of 2013 was one of the best summers of my life. I loved my brothers dearly and they loved me back the way they always did when we were younger. We were still close. I had two or three best friends that I loved dearly and who loved me, and I felt like I had a place. I spent a lot of time with my cousins and with my friends and brothers. I had a big ol’ crush on a boy that I wasn’t willing to admit to myself, but is very obvious in said journals. For a long time, I had thought the sadness that I had felt years prior was a one off, and that the sadness of high school was because of my brothers. Was because they ditched me, was because I struggled with my identity in relation to my brothers. Was because I felt alienated and othered and pissed off at what I felt was the sexism tied in with those things. Feelings that are not uncommon. I still think that’s a big part in how I felt, but reading my blog from that time period shocked me. At least twice I wrote “I am sad today” and tagged it “today was a really bad day”. And maybe that was because of something with my mom, maybe that was because of some extenuating circumstance or fight. But it made it feels finally clear to me that it’s not all those extenuating circumstances, that it’s not the disappearance of a love I can recognize from my brothers, that it’s not a sometimes strained relationship with my mom; it’s something innate in my brain. It’s depression.
That’s not a great thing, of course. Depression and OCD are the reasons I took a semester off of school. But it’s--it’s freeing. Because maybe even if my brothers had loved me the way I wanted them to, if I hadn’t felt left behind, maybe I still would have been angry and sad and upset. I probably would have--look at me even further back in time! I’ve always been an angry kid and a sad kid, I guess. And that sucks. But that means there’s hope. There is hope.
You know, I haven’t actively used this website in years. I’ll always be grateful for it, though. Not because of fandoms or online friendships--I took cyberchase way too seriously to learn how to cultivate those--but because of the connections it gave me to my real life friends and family.
Even now, I’m oversharing but being overtly vague. What a tease I am.
I doubt I have any active followers anymore, and I’m sure if anyone sees this they won’t particularly care about it. Thank you, anyways, for your kindness, for your genuineness, for the fact that platforms like these, where we can scream into the void, continue to exist.
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