marigolds bloom: a journal

hello there,

i was walking around my house at night and i suddenly noticed a corner. a specific, familiar corner. that was when i saw it. myself, weeping in that corner. i had been years younger back then. and i had been hurt. scared and confused. i found myself starting to sob, too.

it all came rushing abruptly back, and i could've sworn it hurt almost as bad as it used to. i was back then. i didn't want to be back then.

so i calmed myself down with a glass of water. and slowly, i returned to the present. i was me again. i have always been me.

little fledgling.

i knew that feeling was completely bogus, but it's not like i didn't know where it came from. it came from myself, all those years back. from that frightened little fledgling who knew nothing about the world.

so i said to myself, "you aren't that little fledgling anymore." but i was lying. i was it and it is me.

honesty speaking, i still describe myself as that frightened little fledgling. but, maybe less so. i'm much older, but i'm the same. because

those tears that i shed are like the air i breathe: i don't know what i'd do without them. they're cathartic. because they remind me that i'm still breathing. and those scars on my heart remind me that i've made it. that i've survived.

so dear little fledgling, i'm glad we made it. dear little fledgling, i'm happy we're here.

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Trans people come from the clay of the earth, like everyone else, and mold ourselves by some inconceivable blueprint, like everyone else.

from Why Are People Trans? by Lily Alexandre

now, i'm usually at peace with my trans identity. however, there was a brief period of time in the past few months were i'd feel as though being transgender was weighing me down. it was almost like a burden, and thinking that really hurt me deep inside.

thankfully enough, that period has ended, and i can be okay with who i am again. though, i can't help but wonder why i was so mad in the first place.

maybe i was mad at myself for not being able to conform. why couldn't i just be cisgender? my life would be so easy! maybe my trans identity was stopping me from getting anywhere in life, or making friends, or even looking in the mirror.

or maybe i was reminded of how beautiful it was when a trans person got to be honest with themselves. their first surgery, their first name change, or even just saying "hey, i think i'm transgender". that trans happiness, that euphoria, just felt so genuine. and i couldn't help but be outraged that people were adamant on wiping that away.

despite all that, whatever was causing my indignance wasn't coming from my soul. i've always known that i was proud to be trans. that i took comfort in it.

being trans is worth fighting for. if it brings so many people so much happiness, it's worth hindering my life a little bit. because one day, it might not be a burden for our trans children to carry anymore.

so as long as trans people keep realising themselves, i think the world will be just fine. because we create ourselves. nobody else ever will.

i've been getting angrier lately. and i don't know where is anger is coming from.

i've been looking at other people and my blood starts boiling at the mere sight of them. i've been angrier at the world for causing me pain. i've been angrier at myself. way angrier. this journal entry IS my hatred towards myself, in a way. i'm flawed, and i think i despise myself for it.

perhaps my anger is completely irrational, and i just need a nap. but it feels like all of this hatred is founded in fear. fear of the world, other people, and myself. fear of what i can't know, let alone control.

and then i start hating myself for the lack of control i have. and then i get angrier. and then it hurts other people. and then i get angrier. it's not a cycle i want to be in.

i know this anger isn't me. but i can't always be so sure. i hate to end a journal entry on a bitter note, but i don't see a way to sugarcoat this.

i've just been getting angrier lately.

Love, to you, is given, love is gifted you
No love can be taken, that love is not true
Love is pain and suffering
Love can bе a lonely thing
Once you've known that magic, who can livе without it?

i. have an awkward relationship with affection. not just romanitcally.

i find myself wishing for intimacy more than i'd like to admit. not from anyone in particular. it's a consitent yearning deep within, as is all intimacy i suppose. but, maybe it runs deeper than my horomones. life hasn't been straightfoward, and i've made more lapses in judgement in my relationships — platonic or otherwise — than i can count on one hand. made one too many wrong friends. maybe i just yearn to be appreciated instead.

the issue lies in wheter or not i can give that love back to the world. as much as i believe in the beauty of love and care, i don't see that in myself. i know i wouldn't take advantage of another willingly, but a part of myself doesn't trust me not to. a part of me thinks i'm incapable of showing affection, and i am unworthy of receiving a gift i could never carry on.

to love or be loved, i will trip over myself. i just hope i can catch myself when it happens.

a good poem is not always a warm one. sometimes good poems feel like a suckerpunch to the gut. sometimes good poems make you feel a deep anguish when you look in the mirror. good poems change you.

an oldie but a goodie from 24 Feb 2023!

the internet is a strange place, isn't it? it feels like hurling yourself into the ocean. but i wouldn't be much of what i am today because of it. this site is an ode to the child who was surfing the web too early in life. this website is a statement of my status as a netizen. this website is a flag i wave, a burden i carry, and a labour of love.

the internet is weird, but the internet is ours.