So the other night I dropped some Acid. I’d like to say that it was a very profound trip, but it wasn’t really. One thing I did learn from it this time was that as confused and fucking chaotic my life has become, I’m a much more centered person than I ever was before. The last time I did Acid, I had the same revelation, though I have a moment of complete clarity and saw motherfucking Mufasa in the clouds. I shit you not, it was the most intense moment of my life and after it, I got off all the other drugs I was using to avoid my life and found some stability.
So I thought that Acid would give me another one of those clarity moments where I come up with something amazing, but I didn’t, not entirely. I should say that I came up with something pretty damn great, but I managed to write a few sentences of it then stay in my head. Since then, I was able to develop a wonderful story that I have decided to pursue writing. So I guess again, thank you Acid.
At any rate, I am still working on the plot design and flow of the entire novel, but I expect it to be a very close to my soul kind of journey in writing. I’ve been writing another novel which is near completion, but I’m like a dog with a bone: When I get an idea, I have to get it all out or else risk losing it for good. So its in the development phase until I’m confident that all I have left to do is write it. My process includes spot writing and then plot development until I’m ready to hammer out the entirety of it.
One part in particular that I wrote, which comes near the final chapters is on one of the main characters, Adam, coming to terms with the fact that he has to tell someone he’s in love with that he was born a woman and that he is still partly one in his physiology. In particular, Sam’s internal dialogue to it, while still a draft, is something that I think came from part of my own experiences in the LGBTQ* community; I’ve known far too many within that community preaching acceptance of one another and then shit talking all the trannies out there. I’ve seen enough side eye and witnessed a ton of avoidance. I understand internal politics of all the “cis” and “non cis” gendered shit that goes on, but nothing gets to me more than the two-faced side of the community. Of course this is not all there is to it, but seeing it happen really stuck with me until now. I often wonder what will happen when, if ever, I come to terms with my own dysphoria and have to face the community I was once so heavily involved in. No matter how much they love you to your face, there will always be chatter behind your back about what you did to yourself. I’ve been between sexualities and genders for so long that it frightens me to be judged as someone going through the next thing. I’m sure I’m not alone in that.
I should reiterate that even though this may happen, I’m not the kind of person to take things so personally. I get angry that it happens at all to others and that there is potential for it to happen to me. I’m strong enough to get through it but for many, they’re not.
Anyways, here is a snapshot of Sam’s dialogue:
His chest tightened at the realization that his world had become so tiny. Even with all the marches and all the campaigns, no one tells you what it’s like to love someone who isn’t what they were supposed to be. They cry loud and speak louder about accepting one another. Marshall had a boyfriend who he thought was a girlfriend before he realized he was gay. The talk was that he had been so easily confused and never really knew what he wanted. That very same night that everyone realized it, Eva killed herself. Eva killed himself. Everyone marched three months later because another life was lost. They were all ridiculous showmen of flaccid half-hearted meaningless mouthings of words they never really meant. All the two-faced mocking was putrid. Sam felt sick suddenly. They could wear their tights and cram their breasts between the sweaty, sticky tape holding them together, but Sam could still see their eyes shift from side to side at the approach of those so much stronger than them to live their lives wholly as they needed to. Because for them, it wasn’t a performance. It was their lives and their lives were on the line every moment of every day. Sam could try all he wanted to understand it; To understand it would be wading through a quicksand far stronger than him, but he could see it.
There was a sliver of him that wanted to be angry with Adam for not saying anything sooner, but Sam was wiser than that to let it surface. It wasn’t Adam’s fault. Whoever Adam had been before he was Adam was a life that was never really his. He lived a lie long before this and if there was ever a lie he was going to tell, it would have been to wear that life proudly upon himself as if it were still a piece to his existence. Perhaps that life was still a piece of the life he lived now, but it was still a structure of lie. It wasn’t Sam’s place to be angry with Adam. Even if he was truly angry, his heart was still so full.
For anyone interested in following the development of Midnight Flowers, you can do so here: https://elle-kastle.tumblr.com/midnight-flowers
