I dreamt of you last night again. It caught me by surprise. We haven’t spoken in, what, five years? And even then, we only spoke because I couldn’t let you go. I sent you a stupid text, and you wanted to have a phone call. We talked for an hour. We hadn’t spoken in years then, too. Our relationship ended long before that.

That’s why it surprised me so much to see you. It wasn’t you. Not as you are now, anyway. I don’t know what you look like now. The you I saw was preserved in the amber of memory; he hadn’t aged a day. He had a kid who had to be, fuck, maybe seven by now? His kid isn’t what left the impression on me though. I was looking at him. I was looking at you.

I wonder if it would surprise you to know how much time you’ve lived in my mind, rent-free. Every few years, my thoughts listlessly drift to you and I decide on what I would say to you if we ever saw each other again. For a while I hated you. I blamed you for so much. I still do. But for some reason getting closure with you mattered to me more than it did with anyone else who owed me an apology. I cared more about my relationship with you than the other people I met at that traumatic job. There’s a part of me (that all my other friends say is wrong) that still wants to be friends with you, despite everything. I’ve been tempted several times to send you my book, or to reach out another way, but I know I can’t have a “normal” friendship with you anymore. It’s not solely your fault. It took me a long time and reflection to realize how I feel about you; I want too much from you, and you cast too large a shadow in my mind.

To be honest, I sort of hope that the next time we see each other, if we see each other, you don’t even recognize me. It would validate how much I’ve changed from the person you used to know. I would be just like Maetel; you know how much we love Galaxy Express 999… or maybe you don’t. I know how much you liked Galaxy Express 999, but I don’t think I ever told you how I felt about it. You knew so much about anime, and your opinions were so intense. I didn’t want you to think I was copying you.

Even if part of me would be glad if you couldn’t identify me, part of me would still be wanting. If you recognized me and tried to act like a stranger, I think my heart would know; the last time we were in the same place, you avoided me. I had to tug your sleeve at that birthday party and say “I’m talking to you!” Do you remember? I wonder if that moment ever echoes in your head. I expect you keep yourself too busy to be haunted by the past.

I guess that’s why the you I saw in my dream stayed with me. In all this time I’ve spent trying to understand my feelings about you, I didn’t spend much time thinking about what you thought of me. I guess I just assumed you hated me, or thought I was irritating, if you still considered me at all. I made an assumption and told myself it wasn’t worth dwelling on. After all, we’re never going to see each other again. But the you I saw didn’t wear an expression filled with loathing or annoyance. Instead he stared at me like a deer in the headlights, the colors of apprehension and shock (maybe even fear?) painted over his rosy face. It was an expression I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make. It was arresting.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. I’ve spent the last decade avoiding anime conventions and shrinking away from having a platform because I’ve been afraid of running into you. When I vagueposted on Facebook about you, somehow you knew. When I made a youtube video, you said you watched it. And like all my feelings relating to you, part of me was happy, and part of me was conflicted. I was happy you saw, but I was worried about the possibility of seeing you, not for anything that you would do, but because of how I would act in response to seeing you. For years I’ve thought if I saw you unexpectedly that I would become shellshocked; seven years ago I had a panic attack that left me prone while walking a show floor because I thought I saw you at a gaming convention in another state. If I don’t freeze, I don’t know if I’d lash out at the sight of you or fold my personality in fealty trying to make you like me. Growing a platform or engaging in community increases the odds that we could run into each other, even just a little bit.

But I don’t want to be silent. I don’t want to shrink away. And I’m frustrated to say that nearly eight years into my transition, I still feel like I haven’t fully come into myself. 

Seeing your wide-eyed stare through the glass, I realized that you could be just as wary of me as I am of you. I know it wasn’t you. There’s no emotional insights to be gained in thinking that this tulpa was some reflection of the real you. But seeing your face wear that expression, I suppose it’s helping me reframe some of my hang-ups about being seen. That you could see me as more than a resource or a liability, but as something with a gravity of its own, is an empowering and different perspective for me. I don’t want to live my life afraid of people who I used to know. I have higher expectations for myself than that. I hope I can live up to them. I still have time. Still, when I think about what I stand to gain from letting my voice out, I can’t help but feel I don’t want you to be afraid of me either.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Part of me hopes you see it, and another part hopes you never find it, or that if you do, you don’t realize I’m writing about you.

Sigh. Whatever.💙