I Wish You All the Best

I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough. And at some point, I know I'm going to have to crawl out of this bed and pick up the pieces but right now, it can be just me. Just me, these four walls, and this bed. The universe doesn't have to exist outside this bedroom, and that's perfectly okay.

Bodies are fucking weird, especially when it feels like you don't belong in your own.

Whatever happens”—his grip tightens a little—“I wish you all the best, Benjamin De Backer.” He says it with a smile. “You deserve it.

Labels can help people find common ground, can help them connect, with themselves and other people".

I've been mentally preparing myself to come out all over again, but I've been doing that for a while now. That was one of the things I realized early. If you're queer, your life has the potential to become one long coming-out moment. If I ever want to be called the right pronouns, I'll have to correct people and put myself out there first and who knows what could happen.

You always point out the problems with the paintings or the drawings. But what about the things you got right?" "What about them?" "Don't they mean something?

I wish you all the best, Benjamin De Backer.” They aren’t the same words, but I know exactly what he means. “I love you too.

Don’t ignore the problems,” he says. “Learn from them. But also, don’t knock what you get right. Every success deserves a celebration.

The more I stare at my body, the more I hate it. It's the same feelings I had before I realized I'm nonbinary. Things just aren't where they're supposed to be, and I feel like I'm larger and smaller than myself at the same time. Like nothing adds up.

[...] when you owe someone your life, can you really call them anything but your best friend?

Be sad, hell, sit in bed all weekend and just watch Netflix. I’ve had those times too. But don’t stop living your life for them.

If you’re queer, your life has the potential to become one long coming-out moment. If I ever want to be called the right pronouns, I’ll have to correct people and put myself out there first and who knows what could happen.

I’m just wondering what the point is.” “Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?

Underneath this smooth and handsome exterior lies the soul of an isolated poet".

Such a contrast to the other non-binary people I’ve seen online. Their smooth, hairless, acne-less faces, their trimmed hair that always seems perfect. These things I could never be. Because no matter how hard I will it my body isn't how I want to see myself.

I don’t really know what I want, but it isn't this body. It’s almost like it knows, with the way it taunts me.

I can’t wear the clothes I want to wear, or that I think look good, but shouldn’t I at least be able to paint my goddamned fingernails?

That's not what's going to happen. Why would you think I'd want to lose you like that?

Like who you’re attracted to and who you are as a person are two totally different things. It’s hard to explain not being confident in your own body. It just feels wrong, but only you seem to really know how and why it feels that way.

It’s like Thomas, Mrs. Williams, and Mrs. Kurtz got together to see what would lead to the quickest emotional breakdown from me. Joke’s on them, because I already know it won’t take much.

But I don't think he realizes how difficult it can be to forget all the mistakes when I know they're my fault. When I know I should've caught them.

Boys aren’t supposed to wear dresses. Even if I’m not a boy, even if clothing shouldn’t be gendered. Whenever anyone looks at me, that’s all they’ll see.

Every “boy” or “him” has been like a stab in the gut.

The age difference meant we weren’t really a part of each other’s lives. I mean, what teenager wants to hang around their kid sibling? She had her own life, her own friends, her own hobbies. She spent weekends out of the house, and

Thanks for being a friend, Betty White.

I sit there in the silence of the room, not sure what I'm supposed to do now. Like, what do you do when your parents kick you out of ypur house? When your entire life is upheaved, all because you wanted to come out, to be respected and seen, to be called the right pronouns?