Monday, April 29, 2019

Editorial note: I originally wrote this years ago, and later posted it as part of a public blog, on a predecessor to this site. I've manually transcribed it here, unchanged, on 2022-12-09.

I stopped smoking on April 6, 2018. Over a year ago now. Even during some intense stress the past few months I've barely had any cravings, but I'm sure as fuck having some now.

There are so many things I just don't want to lose. I want to start writing down all the goofy memories and experiences that should have clued me in to the fact that I'm trans. I want to capture what I feel - not really as much for inspection after the fact, but just to feel certain that I actually felt it as it happens.

And I want, desperately, for this stupid shit I write down to someday amount to something. I want some other lovely person to pick up a book full of the inanity and prattle and pretention that I'm dumping out, and see... something. I don't really know. But I want them to be hooked, instantly and irrevocably, and finally set the volume down hours later as they close the last page. I want them to be a little sad because it's over now. But most of all, I want them just to feel... loved.

Maybe it's some kind of egotistical thing or an imbecilic self-obsession with the idea of making some kind of useful difference on this fucking rock. I don't know. I don't care. If just one, single soul can trudge through the garbage I'm writing and walk away feeling like they deserve love, then I will rest happy.

If you're actually here, actually really truly seeing this, I love you. I'm dedicating every scrap of soul I can put onto these pages to you. My truest, deepest dream is that you might see things here that resonate, that speak to your own soul, that finally say that you are not alone, you never have been, and we love you. I want to be the voice of truly unconditional and unchangeable love for you - the one you deserve so much, and the one I never got to have.

These are the Trans Mission Logs of the Starship Gender. Fare thee well, traveler.