I'm kind of obsessed with character arcs. The idea that the purpose of a person is to change. The way to make a character feel "real" is to have them respond to their experiences, and become someone else.
I'm obsessed with figuring out where my arc is. Did I already complete it? Was it transitioning? Was it building a career? Is it dealing with my anger? That arc isn't going anywhere fast. Maybe my arc started recently when I picked up guitar, or maybe it started even more recently, when I got into the local trans scene. Maybe it hasn't started at all. Maybe it starts when I'm 40, or 60.
And maybe my arc isn't a positive one. Maybe my arc isn't the story of a strong, young woman overcoming adversity and learning from it. Maybe it's a woman's descent into despair, an arc where she pushes everyone away and ruins her own life. Maybe this is the last hope before it all goes south.
Humans don't work like this, of course. Stories work like this, but a human life isn't a story. I'm not a character, my existence doesn't serve a narrative purpose, there is no writer trying to make a salient point using my life. I just exist. I just am. But that means I'm never done. Characters get to have their arc and finish it and then that's who they are. I'm jealous of that. I have to keep changing.
My long term memory is fucking shot. Too much trauma when I was little made me a bit too good at not remembering things. Childhood's mostly blank, anything older than a few months already gets fuzzy. The only things that stick are things that made a huge impact. Everything else leaks out of me. My friends know not to expect me to remember anything. It's not something I can help.
Problem is, I can't really remember what I used to be like. I'm constantly changing, but if I can't remember where I've been, am I really changing at all? Did the tree make a sound when I can't even remember if it fell or not? A single point on a graph does not an arc make. And the points behind me keep getting erased. The only way I know I've changed is because people tell me I have. Or because they expect things from me that I can't see myself doing.
Sometimes I read old posts on this blog just to see what kind of person I used to be. I'm often confused and disturbed by what I find. Does that mean I changed for the better? Or the worse? Who's even to say?
I only ever exist right now.