sometimes, I see some life updates of mutuals i’ve had here, on tumblr, since (? from? some have left, never to return) almost 15 years ago. we never got as close as we were here, sharing the same mental breakdowns, the same obsessions, the same unapologetic sense of ectasy — on those other social medias.
but I see how they’re faring. I see them grow.
most importantly, I see them being alive, living life events they didn’t even think they’d like to experiment, back in the engulfing sadness and anxious terror our teenage years had on us.
I see them, having their first child; and I remember the day I first got in contact with them was to make sure they were still responding somehow, showing signs of life and existence, after seeing a post on here making the rounds of worry following the goodbye post she left.
I see them celebrating a long awaited double nationality approval, being successful in their studies, having plans on doing stand-up shows, after being in such a bad place mentally from poverty and an overly complicated parental relationship.
I see them being a skilled cosplayer, flourishing as a set designer, and I remember the roleplaying fanmail we used to send each other.
I see them being a responsible, loving teacher, hilariously faithful to God and Communism after wallowing in the pain of being a broke student suffering from both heartbreak, abusive parent, change of studies, and eating disorders.
and I see me: how I planned to go, how the tumblr community saved (against my will and my privacy but still did) my life, how I now am an art performer, a well-known art model in my city, pioneering in an Easter-Egg career; and how I am loved (even as an arospec-ace queer folk) and how I have been loved, and how I’m achieving things I didn’t even wanted to want.
and I kinda want to tear up, just a little.
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