Normally I eat sitting at the computer desk because it’s just extremely unpleasant to eat at the coffee table where Nicholas and I typically used to eat every night. If I had another table, I would already pitch this one. One of the legs on it is broken anyway from where Nicholas got angry at me and kicked the leg right off the table. Anyway, for some reason I found myself sitting in Nicholas’s seat eating on his side of the table. Totally triggered and nearly in tears I felt the need to text him.
Today I reached my first personal goal on Instagram, and that was reaching 500 followers. That’s pretty cool to me no matter what anyone says. I’m an ordinary transgender woman from a hick town, and 500 people are interested in my pictures? Damn right I’m excited!
Every time I sit down to write, the first thing that pops into my head is my last relationship, so today I’m going to write Nicholas a letter. At first, I thought no, I can’t always be writing about a relationship that I want to go away, but then again, the whole reason I’m doing this journal is to get out all of my thoughts and feelings. Who knows, maybe my journal will become “Letters to a Man I used to Love”.
Valentines Day, a day supposed to be dedicated to love and romance. Both things that I was without this year but who cares. I sure don’t. I thought, however, for some crazy reason that I would have heard from my ex today, but I didn’t. This gave me mixed emotions. On one hand, it made me sad, on the other made me feel good, because I knew he was feeling strong enough not to reach out just like I was. It was extremely hard but I too managed not to contact him.
The ending of the dream is what hurts the most and has for many reasons. For as long as I can remember recognizing myself in a mirror, I have always looked at the reflection and asked myself, "who is this boy, guy, man, that I'm looking at"? The four years that I was with Nicholas I didn't do this. I felt validated for who I am. I thought he understood who I am. Now that he's gone I find myself looking in the mirror asking myself this again. It saddens me to hate the body god gave me. I've asked god a million times, why? It's even worse being enclosed in someone else's skin. No one will ever understand that feeling unless their transgender themselves.