ExactoBeau Soars Above the Clouds

- I remember 2016 as being the worst year of my fucking life, in ways it’s gonna be hard to beat and the universe better not fuckin try

- since 2016, I’ve gotten a degree in a field that I love, been in a toxic relationship, had a toxic relationship end, been in a kind but ultimately not what we wanted relationship, had that end too, been single for a while, learned I’m trans, started hrt, gotten in a different lovely proudly queer relationship which I’m very happy in, made friends, lost friends, mourned friends, made new friends, gotten a job I liked, made manager, quit, got another job that lets me do a bit of good in the world, gotten top surgery, travelled, swam shirtless in the warm sea, written half a dozen zines and a poetry chapbook, performed poetry, accepted I’m probably never gonna make a career out of poetry alone, gone on and off and on again various mental health treatments and hopeful that this one will stick for as long as it needs to, walked probably a thousand or more cumulative miles wearing through the soles of half a dozen or more boots, laughed, cried, rested, collapsed from fatigue, crawled back out again

- if I could reach back to the kid making this post… buddy, I’m not gonna say it’ll all be alright, because that’s pat and trite and diminishes the very real struggles of growing. But we cut our hair and change our name and grow a beard and we’re not Quite out of the shitty little hometown but we’re getting there. I think you’d like the jumper I’m wearing. I saw mcr live and I know you’d kill me with jealousy for it. I took you with me, as much as I could. I still think you’ve got great taste in movies, and I’ve got some new recs for you.

- I now have 4 tattoos! None of them are the ones I thought I’d have, but that’s okay. The first one is not an art style I’d choose today but the design holds a ton of meaning for me, and always will, and I don’t regret it. The other 3 are a more cohesive art style - maybe I could have changed the placement or tweaked some details, but I don’t need to, they’re part of me now and they’re beautiful for it. I’m excited to get more and to live long enough to reflect on them like this again and again and again

- 25 felt impossibly old to you. Right now it feels both impossibly old and impossibly young. I’m glad I got to see what it brought me, even the shit parts

You were the victim, and it wasn’t fair, but it’s over now. Nobody came to save you, and I’m sorry, but it’s too late for anyone to go back and do it different.

You’re suffering over something that cannot be resolved. You’re allowed to feel angry, or outraged, or betrayed, but there will eventually come a time that you don’t feel that so violently anymore, and you’re going to want to have something good left to go back to.

You can’t make anyone love you the way you need to be loved. That’s how a lot of good things end. Not with a clear sign, something blocking the road that says “do not proceed”, just a splitting of the path that’s still moving somewhat in the same direction.

You can’t fix them. Nothing you can do will fix them. And if they fix themselves, they can’t do it for you- they have to do it for themselves as well, because otherwise a day may come when they’re alone, and as long as they live, they are their only true constant. So you can support, and you can encourage, but the hardest part is up to them. And sometimes they can’t do it even with your help.

Sometimes letting go of someone feels like mourning at their funeral before they’ve died, and every time you see them after it’s like talking to a ghost that doesn’t know it’s dead. Sometimes that happens. You’ll both still wake up tomorrow anyways.

I understand that you’re afraid, and that you’re afraid for good reasons. And I understand that being brave isn’t as easy as just turning that fear off, and you would if you could in a heartbeat. But the thing is, as long as that fear is able to dictate your choices, it will have power over you. If you don’t believe you can try to fight it, if you accept that it will always be in charge, you let the frightening thing stay present in your life. It will exist as long as you stay paralyzed. And that sounds cruel, but it isn’t something anyone can fix for you.

The person you may let yourself become after experiencing the terrible thing may very well grow into a much bigger, much more terrible thing, and someday it will swallow the first terrible thing whole. And all that will be left is something far worse for someone else. And you will not be able to shrink it down by explaining where it came from, because terrible things that are dead and gone are never as terrible as terrible things that are alive right now in front of you.

when real people do kink in real life, you gotta do all that good out-of-scene stuff like discuss boundaries, set limits and expectations, check in with each other, do aftercare, et cetera et cetera et cetera... but in fiction, everything can be in-scene!

the people in that fanfic don't exist any more than, like, the make-believe sexy football star and make-believe sexy cheerleader in a couple's roleplay exist. that couple doesn't need to get into character and then pretend to be a sexy football star having an important consent conversation with a sexy cheerleader, because that's a conversation that's already happened out-of-scene and out-of-character. (i mean, if you're into in-character negotiations, chase your bliss.) when they're in that scene, they can just pretend to be a sexy football star having sex with a sexy cheerleader. that's okay.

when i say in fiction, everything is in-scene, i mean that the fiction IS the scene.

if someone went up to their partner and said "hey, wouldn't it be sexy if we pretended you were manipulating and controlling me in an unethical way for sex reasons?", and then they talked through all the good and necessary consent and risk-awareness things, and then they played that scene out - that's a made-up scenario where pretend bad things happen, but no real-world people come to real-world harm, right?

now, if someone writes a story where one character manipulates and controls another in an unethical way for sex reasons... that, too, is a made-up scenario where pretend bad things happen, but no real-world people come to real-world harm.

i have posted before that i think you are an artist before you ever make a painting or song or book. i understand it is a unique perspective and that is okay, but i am thinking on it again. specifically on how it relates to my perspective on grief and death

when i answer 'what makes you a creator?' with 'you are a creator before you ever start' it makes some folks upset or make fun of chuck. that is okay it is a big philosophical swing, but i think best way to explain would be to actually look at TIME ITSELF. specifically question: what is the present?

our perception is always a memory, a split second one from the 'now', so i am just as much present here as i am myself at 4, or 14, or 24 or 94. the dr manhattan meme is actually true, and we are all just bound by a focus on the 'present.' and guess what, the creative act STARTS when existence does

anyway, i started believing this about ART when i had a realization about DEATH. when someone we love trots to the next timeline, we become obsessed with their final moments as if they have more weight. if someone dies in a tragic way, we kind of let that start to define them. this bothers me

because once they are gone they are in EVERY moment. there is no reason that THE END, this tiny sliver of existence that is barely visible within the whole pie, should be worth more than all the love and joy on the way. when we are gone we are every moment, and when we are here we are every moment

tonight i just trotted back from seeing a family member who is about to leave this timeline. probably last time i will see them, and as i was in their room i was thankful i did not need to look around and tell myself 'this is the last time, i better appreciate this place', because i already DID

this final visit was also the first visit, and the second, and the twenty fourth. the are all the same, and when you live with gratitude for the small moments you ALREADY APPRECIATE THEM. you do not need to prove anything at the end. there is not catchup. i believe deeply that this is true

you pet your dog and the atoms that are you brush up against the atoms that are him, and the electrons that are you press into the electrons that are him, and both of them change their movement.

electrons of course are not really particles and do not really move.

Fascism thrives best in the cesspool of hopelessness. They want us so confused and hopeless that we give in. When you give in, you don’t fight back.

If you wait for life to look good to do the things that bring you joy; life will still be bad - you will just have less joy.

As someone who has struggled with my mental health a lot for the last thirty years, I know this struggle firsthand. And changing this belief system - the one where you spend all of your time expecting bad things so you won’t be surprised when they happen - it’s the hardest work that I have ever done. And I’m not perfect; I still have setbacks. I still experience really real fears about the state of the world and the US, in particular, because that’s where I live.

But I made a vow to myself that I will not let the choices of others ruin my life. When I made that vow, I was thinking of my parents - but it applies to the state of the government right now, too.

There are still flowers in my garden, and ripe tomatoes, and it’s almost pick-your-own apples season, and I have plans with my friends to go to as many cemetery ghost walks as we can find this October.

I still deserve to live. I still deserve to laugh. I still deserve to love. I still deserve to be as happy as I can be.