Dive Deep into Creativity: Your Ultimate Tumblr Experience Awaits
She’s the first person I told…everything. She was my confidant, my shield, my break in the shore. She hasn’t used my deadname since I changed it six years ago.
We haven’t been talking much these last few months. I moved ac
Across the country and she got…mean. She wanted me to come back, to stay depressed, to live in a bubble with her. I didn’t.
Got deadnamed by my oldest friend on my birthday. Deliberately. Through a meme.
Just saw my deadname in a random obscure fanfic I was reading and it literally jumpscared me
Guys, I think I came up with a new term (unless of course it’s already been invented):
When you continue to use your deadname because you haven’t decided on a new one yet. You also never correct anyone who uses it while referring to you, because there’s no correction to give.
The other night, I met a woman named Zoey. It was the first time I had met someone who had my old name. It was jarring at first, but the more I think about it, the more poetic it becomes.
Zoey was a headstrong, smart, artistic, and funny little girl. She was adventurous and friendly. She used to approach other kids on the playground, introduce herself, and within minutes she would have a new best friend. Zoey used to be able to come up with a million ideas in one night and write them all down to explore in the morning. Zoey was hurt by people she trusted a lot and she forgave them because she didn’t want them to get hurt. She got hit over and over and still stood up. She was scared, but she had a big heart.
I’m not her anymore. I’m not Zoey. I haven’t been Zoey in a long time. I’ve been Joey, Eliott, Z, Grey, and Felix, but Zoey has become a stranger to me. The little girl who spent so much time being abandoned by the strangers she thought were her best friends, was abandoned by the person who should have loved her most. I spent a lot of time hating her. Hating her innocence, hating her femininity, hating her openness.
But then the other night, I met a woman named Zoey. She was a trans woman, probably at the same time in her transition that I was. Only out for a few years, and still getting used to the new name. At first, it was uncomfortable saying the name out loud again. It felt foreign, like another language. But the more I think about it, the more I find comfort in it. I didn’t abandon her. I simply let her become a new person.
I’ve only started to believe more in spirituality, and this was almost cosmic. Cause now there’s me and there’s Zoey. I got to see the person she’s become. She’s still smart, funny, and friendly. She’s still learning and growing. I don’t know much about the woman she’s become, but I know that she’s ok. She’s going to be ok.