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There are things I want to tell you, that I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to, simply because they’re not likely to come up in a normal conversation. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you about how nice living with Bro and Mom was before they split. I don’t know if I’ll ever show you the tapes she sent us a while ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you about how much I hated Dave when we were really young, or about how close I’ve come to up and leaving so many times, or about how sometimes I look in the mirror and it’s a toss up between whether I’ll see the face of a monster, or me, and I don’t know which is worse. It feels like a broken record, how everything seems to come back to him. I mean, fuck, get some original trauma, damn. I’m a one trick fucking pony.

I don’t know, dude. Will I ever tell you about how sometimes I just want someone to tell me that I’m pretty? I know I’m the coolest motherfucker out there, but I just want to know that I look nice. That’s the gayest shit, and I hate that. I really really hate how gay I am. A lot. That’s some more fucked up shit that we don’t have time to unpack, but it’s there. Sometimes I see a post with an outfit that isn’t ironically terrible, something that’s obviously meant for girls, but I still think it could be nice. It’s fucked up that even though my brother is fucking trans I still can’t bring myself to even think about buying a skirt or like. Some cute underwear or something. I’ll support Dave to the ends of the Earth and further in terms of his identity, but I can’t think about myself like that without feeling sick. I’m not gay. I can’t be gay. Just like I can’t cheat in Bro’s games. It’s irrational. What can he possibly fucking do at this point? Literally nothing. But I’m still hung up about it.

I was talking with HAL yesterday, up on the roof. I wasn’t going to do anything, god knows I’m too much of a pussy to. But we were talking. It would be really easy for him to replace me. Like PH, I guess. Except. More voluntary on my party. I think only Dave, Cass, and Cro would really notice. He could just tell you not to come over until he got someone to build his body. Break it off with you on my behalf so you don’t get suspicious. Completely replace me. Would anyone even care, if they noticed? It’s hard to say yes, I don’t believe it. Maybe it would be better that way. I mean, it definitely would be, but.

I guess there is no “but” about that statement.

I like being alone, I like having my space, but too often it seems like the only way to get people to like you is to throw yourself out of that and burn yourself out completely on other people. It’s getting so hard to do that. I want to be seen, but I hate it when people look at me. I barely go out. Dave’s never home. I like my space usually, but sometimes I need to talk to someone that isn’t family or my own fucking brain, and then who do I go to? I cut Jake and Jane off. I haven’t talked to them in years. I don’t have any other friends I can talk to. I could talk to you, but I can’t tell you about all this shit. You have your own shit to deal with. I only talk to my therapist for an hour every two weeks. I need a friend. Maybe I’m just lonely.