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Sunday, 12 January 2014

Eventful silence (I'll feel bad about wasting a title like this later)

I've been meaning to write for a while now. I even have a draft of a post I intended to post three days ago. It's not even that the last few days have been uneventful, by all means they haven't.

I could highlight, for example, that Wednesday afternoon I volunteered at an LGBTQ event on campus. The tomboy girl I met before was organising it and she was very nice to me. I wanted to hug her. I greeted people and smiled at everyone. More so some than others (I could see you, shameless freeloaders, and I disapproved). I was still the awkward straight girl who wouldn't even take a break from her spot when it as offered, nor did I do so much as ask for a glass of water when asked if I wanted anything. The organiser may or may not have felt a need to shield some of the more "out there" people from me, like an absolutely fabulous trans woman wearing a business suit, massive hair and bright pink lipstick. I loved her and my glance may have fallen on her a few more times than it did on anyone else there. She made me smile just by existing and I worried that my smile could be misconstrued as "I know. She's different!", the way some folks feel proud of identifying different people as if they deserved badges of honour for such cunning powers of observation to aid their bigotry. I wish that besides standing there, volunteering in my spot and welcoming people I had had a way to say I look up to her for being prouder of being herself than I am of being myself (and indeed many people I know of being themselves). I wish that volunteering came with a sign above my head that read "I see the way you are who you are and love who you love without apologising to anyone and I love you!" But it only comes with a genuine and heartfelt (though sometimes slightly awkward) smile. I even had time to think about how I would have told SmTn about it and hoped to make him proud.

I've thought of a title for the story inspired by SmTn I have yet to write: The Greatest Love Story That Ever Wasn't. A little cliché, I know. But cliché is not so bad if it's heartfelt.

While I'm still stuck on the subject of SmTn and to further drill in how not over him I am, I have a confession to make. I may have typed what little I remembered of the website where he posted his old pictures into Google and come out of it having found posts of his in forums. Mostly (entirely) tech-y geeky stuff I have no business with and no interest in. The problem is that I still made it my business to read through his posts and every thread (not that many) he started because it made me feel sort of close to him. Even funnier (creepier still on my part) when I found a post from years ago when he was messing around with coding. Maybe worth worrying the tiniest bit about, there may be some code to recognise visitors on his website (i.e. he could know I've been looking for it... and maybe even which three pictures I looked at) and that's kind of embarrassing.

Now on a different subject, seriously (a serious subject), therapy. I've made an appointment to see a psychiatrist (for you unenlightened folk those would be the ones allowed to prescribe medication). There was no conversation with anyone about it, other than the group leader. And even then it wasn't so much a conversation as me breaking into tears over the stupidest things and saying "I'm sorry I'm crying, but this is precisely why I think I need medication. I shouldn't be so upset about these things, all the time." Maybe when the appointment comes and I have to explain everything all over again I'll get to talk about how I can still see beauty in simple things, enjoy life and overall not be so much of a wretch but it is simply not possible for however many days a year I have to stay chez les A and I still have too many of those left to come out of the experience a sane person without any help.

With some exceptions, I think you could sort of tell when I'm depressed just by looking at how unwilling I am to do so much as write a blog post. That's exactly what has been happening over the last week. I really don't want to eat much or do much other than lie on the bed and waste my time doing absolutely nothing useful.

You see? This is about as much as I could write before wandering off and not doing anything. Again. Remind me to write about seeing beauty where others don't, about "Für Elise" and
remind me to update the kind online stranger and maybe do something about this SmTn-related sense of helplessness/hopelessness/doom I can't shake off.

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