I cannot gather my thoughts enough to make a digital minimalism post (5) like I wanted to today. I have a few things I would like to digest first, I think. I was going to list 3 things I wanted to talk about, but I cannot think of anything else so I will just get this out, I guess.

I keep thinking of a dream that was killed. I mourn for a loss that was at my own hand.

To preface this, I struggle with dissociation a lot. I cannot be in the moment, because the moment is not my dream. I live with someone who is not my dream, who I do not have severe ties to. I live in a place that is not my dream. I am not living my dream, so I cannot be in the moment.

Where are you?

A thought that has been recurring all day within the barriers of my mind. I state, "I am home.", but the thought does not soothe the question and confusion of my exact location and presence. The flash of an old dream, one that was tucked away within the folds of my mind to collect dust, re-appeared. I saw her, moving around in my home.

For the first time in a while, I am struck with grief for my first love. She didn't die, but I killed her. My thought of grief, of wanting that life I had dreamed of since I was with her, was in brief passing, but it overwhelmed me.

If I were to speak to her now, I would own up to all of my wrongdoings. I would tell her what I did, because at this point, embarrassment and shame over my own actions wouldn't do anything to help. I would apologize. I would not try to convince her of how I have changed, I would not get defensive when she would most likely be hurt by myself or point out her feelings or what exactly I did that hurt her. "I Never Got Over My First Love" - Salon.com

After I realized the urge to try and contact her, I wanted to tell my therapist. However, it is not my session date and I thought I would want to be able to bring it up then, so instead I turned to the internet. Reading this article made me shed tears. It is so true. I really enjoy the advice givin in it, and reading and thinking of the concepts given helped me. I will not write my supposed letters and processing down onto this blog, but I thank you for reading this far if you have.

The next thing I wanted to talk about today was something that struck me a few days earlier to writing this. I was getting ready to shower, and realized I had become a little more shapely. I, mostly internally, freaked out. I had thoughts such as, "I don't want to be a sex object", thoughts fearing how others would see me, thoughts fearing unwanted gaze, thoughts of disgust because that was how others would see me. I had thoughts that I was just a little girl, a little princess, and that I was now not safe because of how others would prey on me.

This leads me to my prompt: I believe that my masculinity was a trauma response. I do not believe all of it is, as I genuinely enjoy the way I present. However, I do believe that a seedling of it, at least some of it, was influenced by that.

I am getting a bit tired, so I will stop here, I have already processed the masculinity thing some, so I don't have much else to say about it.

About my mourning for my first love: Part of me feels that she is the only person who will be able to love me, or has loved me, unconditionally. She did not judge me for my interests, and we were both interested in things such as my little pony and the nostalgia behind it, horror films, playing video games online together, crafting, flowers, incense, music, music x2, and sharing life. Part of me genuinely feels that no other person would be able to love me, warts and all. Quirks and all. Being "childish" and all. And I do believe that it is a correct assumption... that nobody's love will feel the same as that. So why do I search for the exact same level, knowing every being is different? I will never just find another her wandering the streets. There are no two souls that are exactly alike. And that was what made her beautiful. I am hoping this is goodbye to my grieving chapter.

Written May 04, 2022.