Portrait of the artist as a young man.
I’d like to call this my “I’m-not-comfortable-taking-pictures-of-myself-especially-in-a-bathroom-mirror-because-I-don’t-want-to-be-“that-guy”” look.
Today has been a struggle. I’m not quite sure why, I know I have felt this way before, but I suppose today it’s been magnified. It’s this feeling that I can’t quite put into words, but somehow I got this feeling that maybe writing about it would help. I’m ready to move on and move out of this house, first and foremost. I do love my parents, and they have come a long way with me - my dad just started calling me Ryan last week - and I am so thankful for them, but I just need to move on and do my own thing now. It’s my turn. Mom invited my grandfather over for dinner, and we all had to assume the usual positions. “Now remember, we have to call Ryan _______, he’s not Ryan around my father.” NO SHIT MOM. NO FUCKING SHIT. WE GO OVER THIS EVERY SINGLE TIME AND YOU BRING IT UP EVERY OTHER DAY. WE KNOW. I KNOW. Today it just felt like too much. Like I was being FORCED back to a place where I didn’t want to go. I mean, this is typical routine when my grandpa comes over, nothing about today was any different than it had been in the past, but I just didn’t want to go back there emotionally. It’s been several months since I have experienced any real insane mood fluctuations, but today I had them again. I was really quick to anger. More than usual. Perhaps this week, when I get back to a normal gym routine like I had this summer and not being in any environment where I will be in the closet will help. I think I’m also going to file my name change petition this week - for real this time. FUCKING FINALLY.
