…i felt like doing this. copied from crabigail adams.
i was 17/18, a senior in high school. i worked at cvs all the time, saving up to travel around the country when i was finally done with school. i cut all my hair off the night i graduated high school. i got kicked out of my dad’s house for being a dyke in august. on september 10, 2000 [imagine if i’d waited a year!? holy f!] i flew to san francisco and then spent the next few months riding a greyhound aimlessly around amerika. it was great & memorable, if lonely & daunting sometimes too.
i came back to my shitty town after months of adventures. i was depressed & living with my mom, who made it no secret that she didn’t want me there. she told me i needed to leave in late january and i moved in with some girls i’d met travelling, in the deep south. bad, bad idea. i moved to philly six months later, sight unseen, knowing one person. i hated it, until i moved into la concha (a dyke collective house that still influences my life to this very day). i lived on less than $6,000 that year. i stole a lot & dumpstered a lot too. i was happy but sad. i lived in six houses in three states and had over 20 housemates in that year alone. 9/11 happened and i was surrounded by haters who didn’t get it. i thought my dad was dead, but he wasn’t (he’s a construction worker who worked in the towers all the time). one of my lovers that year completely destroyed my life for years to come.
one of the worst years ever. i was sexually assaulted by someone i trusted. it wasn’t brutal or violent, just another incident of people not hearing me or acknowledging my needs, just another reminder that my safety or comfort wasn’t important to anyone. a crackhead tried to break into my house & rape me & my housemate, and stood on our porch until 5am screaming about how we needed to get out there & suck his cock. everyone who loved me was bad for me. i got into an argument with a man at work and he brought four friends back with him to kick my ass. they stood and watched me for hours. i ran to my bike and hopped on and pedaled for dear life and knew then, more than ever, that my life was expendable. that i meant absolutely nothing in this world. this was the year i knew nobody would care if i died. i went home to long island & concentrated on healing. it was hard. i moved to brooklyn and i loved it more than anything.
i started binding my breasts & presenting as genderqueer. i fell in love with a girl with a blue mohawk & we ran amok, getting drunk and smashing things gleefully, making out while barreling down the highway at 80 MPH, one eye on the road…one night she asked me to marry her and i said yes even though we were both queer punx who were ideologically opposed to that sort of thing. i quit my job in publishing to go back to college & even though i was living in a freshman dorm in westchester county (at age 21) i was happy.
another horrible year. i started it off with a nervous breakdown (which effectively resolved many of my gender issues, as i was too concerned with not committing suicide to think about my breasts). i got really wrapped up in my unhealthy codependent relationship & alienated most of my friends. i had the worst birthday ever and it was my girlfriend’s fault. one of my best friends started acting really crazy & nobody knew why. in july the doctors found a tumor in her lung. i worked construction & was exhausted & lived in a horrible basement apartment with an annoying goth woman.
my friend died. i lost my home. my computer was stolen. i went to new orleans and had a great time and first kissed the boy who is my current partner. we rode bikes all over NOLA and i was so happy. i went to california for the summer and healed so much and had tons of amazing experiences. my girlfriend cried because she missed me but wouldn’t write me a letter. i had a lot of friends & a lot of good times mixed in with the bad.
i moved in with my girlfriend in philly because i was pretty much out of money. it was dull & crappy, but necessary. i delivered pizza on my bike. i had the hottest summer of my whole life & then went back to school and had lots of fun.
graduated college, broke up with my girlfriend, moved to pittsburgh with the dude who i thought was my best friend. i also thought we were having lots of fun, but i was wrong on both counts. i wasn’t gonna find that out, though, until…
i lost people i loved. i drank, cried and wrote a lot. fucked up my wrists and my heart. started dating my current sweetheart. wrote lots of love letters.
i was generally happy and in love. i saw a lot of interesting things and traveled a little bit and was, for the most part, content. wow. how about that?