The Nonbinary Notebook

The One with the Rant

December 20, 2015

8:29 AM

WARNING: RANT IN PROGRESS.

On The Future:

Everyone my age is terrified of their future, but I'm genuinely excited. I'll finally get to be me, wholly and truly, without the judgmental undertones of high school. I'm actually very impatient for the future. I'm not worried, or afraid. What's the worst that could happen? I get out of college and can't find a job for my degree, so I become a server? I can deal with that. I drop out of college? I can more than deal with that. I become homeless and live on the streets? That's not going to happen at all, so why worry? Whatever the case, I know it'll work out eventually. I'll move somewhere I love, eventually get a job I love, maybe even marry someone I love. In the future I can finally be happy.

Don't get me wrong; I'm fine now. I'm not sad. But I'm certainly not happy, either. I can't fully be myself yet; I'm restricted by temporal, financial, and social cages. In addition, school hardly leaves me time to eat, let alone pursue passions. I imagine it will be even worse in college, but maybe it's worth it. Maybe it's not. I don't know. If I can make a living off of writing novels without the extra millennia of schoolwork, I gladly will. My hopes of being a psychologist may not be my hopes anymore, but the hopes of a little girl who wanted to impress her family and be successful.

I've always thoroughly enjoyed writing. In fact, I'd much rather be an author than a doctor of any kind. The problem once again lies with time, and my inability to find enough of it to pursue writing. I'd like to finish my story, Datemates, but I've hardly begun. Maybe novels aren't what I'm after. I could write for a newspaper, or a website. More likely a website. Buzzfeed, Cracked, The Onion. I wonder if they'll be hiring by the time I'm eighteen.

Speaking of being eighteen, I've got a plan. Bob (I asked, Bob prefers masc. pronouns) and I were talking and he said that as soon as he could, he was getting out of this awful town and moving to LA. We both reached an epiphany simultaneously as he said something like "YOU SHOULD COME" and I said something like "OMG CAN I COME?" So now we plan to be roommates in the city where dreams are made. Dreams of meeting lots of queers, of living near celebrities, of being happy. That's a big one. Bob and I are both going through a rough time right now, for different reasons. But we think that moving and starting fresh somewhere we don't hate will be very helpful.

Maybe, in the big city, Bob and I can follow our dreams. I want to write. I want to act. I want to travel. I want to take road trips with my best friend while singing stupid pop songs too loudly. With the windows down, so everyone can hear. I want to wear what I like, dye my hair crazy colors, get tattoos and piercings and just be ME. We both feel like we can't fully be ourselves right now. We're restricted, again, by temporal, financial, and social cages. Not enough time, not enough money, and definitely not enough acceptance.

I'm rolling with the acceptance idea now; honestly, I feel like everything I do at this point is just an attempt at trying to express myself in any way I can, without coming out or scaring my relatives. I got my hair cut to feel more agender, I play my guitar to calm me down, I write in here just to let it out. Because if I don't do all of this, I would either explode or implode. Exploding would consist of visible anger, tears, and possibly trigger warnings. Imploding would be the opposite. I'd be lifeless, soulless, like a victim of the dementor's kiss. I've felt that way before and it is awful.

But in any case, no matter how hard it is here and now, I can look forward to the future with an optimistic gaze and dream of the future. Sharing an apartment with my best friend? Chasing my dreams? I think yes.

RANT OVER.