To Michael,

You’ve been stuck on my mind for the last few days and I can’t really pin down why. Maybe it’s going through the motions of registering  for college classes, or drinking that brand of whiskey you said you loved. It could’ve been when Ty mentioned that time he dated your sister and how it was around the same time that I realized I truly loved you, as my best friend and as more than that.

It’s been almost 2 years since we last talked. I remember it like it was yesterday. All dressed up in our graduation robes, taking selfies and laughing, saying things between us would never change. You ran up to me and made fun of how uncomfortable I  looked in the heels I had to wear, threw your arm around my shoulders and took as many pictures as you could. I followed you around while you gathered the rest of our group. When we lined up to head out and start the ceremony, we were shoulder to shoulder and I figured that was the universe telling me that we were meant to start this next chapter together.

God, I wish I had been right, but I guess the world was telling me to say goodbye. That you had been accepted to that college in Oregon, and I got accepted to Wyoming, that we would lose touch because it hurt too much for me to reach out.

Michael, you were the best part of my school years. Back when you gave me that plastic, homemade rose in 7th grade I knew right then that you were gonna rule my life. And even though we never lined up, that my like liking you never matched with you like liking me, I am so glad that I got to call you my best friend for almost 6 years.

It’s been 2 years since I last called you up, since I saw you or felt your arm around my shoulder, and I can’t get you out of my head. So much has happened, so much I never built the courage to tell you when we had the time together. Like how my parents think I’m gay and they’re not entirely wrong. That I’m out as trans and going by the name you picked out for me. I mean, you probably knew that, you always had me figured out before I did. It kills me that I can’t just send you a 2am text because I had that bad dream again, can’t share all the new songs I’ve found that remind me of you.

Maybe one of these nights, when I’m sipping on that whiskey you always told me to try during the quiet nights I hate; maybe I’ll get my phone out and shoot you a message.

- J (or as you knew me, E) 

i’m over the people in my past, love. i’m not over what they did to me. you claim to understand how i feel, you claim to empathize. but this is my therapy, don’t hold it against me.

Dear, we are in a slow film. People slowly passing by but despite the ocean of strangers, all I ever want, need, to see is your face. That we try to constrain the whole universe from expanding and the whole world from spinning because we just want to stay in that only moment where we are together, people’s chatters as background noise, and everyone else is a backdrop we don’t care about. Dear, I still try to understand the meaning of mise-en-scene. They said that it is everything that appears in front of the camera, so does that mean that it is you. That you are the whole visual elements of my film. That you are the beginning, the middle and the ending plots - but we would wish that it would never end. Is it the influence of your touch into the ambiance of the clips, or the color of your lips on the saturation of the shot. Dear, let’s move slowly, trying to savor, trying to stop time, trying to hold on into a future where safety is never guaranteed, but still, we choose to be happy together.

   It was a cold night, and she was the last person on deck. Sketchbook in hand, she drew lines across the page, attempting to copy the life she saw in the waves into a drawing. Something simple, something to look back on, just for her. The footsteps surprised her, she didn’t expect anyone to come near her, or to be around at this hour. Rhea was quite positive she wasn’t supposed to be out here, but why would she follow those rules on a night like this?

     Never one to play coy, she looked up at the figure, “Nice night, isn’t it? What brings you out here?”

i know you’re going to see this tomorrow and i’m calling you after 1:30 pm tomorrow after class because i don’t give a shit. i like being around you and i hate being mad at you, i’m no good at arguments and i’m sorry if i hurt you. don’t leave.

πως να κάνεις fail ένα exam σαν την Εύα:

• ξεκίνα να διαβάζεις 1 ώρα πριν
• πήγαινε στη λάθος αίθουσα, στο λάθος κτήριο, στη λάθος περιοχή
• μετά από μισή ώρα μπες μέσα ενώ σε κοιτάνε όλοι επειδή τους διέκοψες
• έχε μαζί σου μόνο στυλό ενώ χρειάζεται μολύβι
• δες τις πρώτες ερωτήσεις
• χτύπα το κεφάλι σου στο τραπέζι
• κανε αμπεμπαμπλομ τουκιθεμπλομ στο multiple choice
• και τραγούδα χριστουγεννιάτικα τραγούδια από μέσα σου για να περάσει η ώρα μέχρι να σας διώξουν

here’s what i’m going to do, asshole. i know you’re going to see this. i’m going to tag every post i ever wrote bout you specifically with #e. go through and look at how happy i am because of you. maybe that’ll convince you. i never planned on owning up to any of those posts, the fact that they’re about you. but they are, and i can’t change that. whatever.