“A few good words don’t just make your day but they also give the sense of belonging and confidence to take the next big step forward.” ― Ravi Shastri
My friends all told me I could do it. Go through security, find your gate, wait for your plane. Easy. My parents were not convinced. Scratch that. They were convinced. Convinced that I would have a mental breakdown and crawl back home. Convinced traveling a thousand miles for my first in-person meeting with a girl I had met through online dating was pure lunacy. They shouldn’t have been surprised. I am a schizophrenic. I am diagnosed crazy.
I went back and forth. One moment I believed that I could handle it, that I am fucking strong and I could handle a crowded airport. The next moment I was literally shaking at the prospect.
I had flown before, exactly once. To Germany. With my parents. When I was two. My brother Hawk told me he would be afraid to fly alone. My brother who was the first to come out as queer in a homophobic Christian household, who doesn’t put up with shit from anyone.
But I was determined. My girlfriend was waiting for me, a thousand miles away.
The car ride was fun. Fun as in cringey. My dad had found out about Socially Unacceptable and read a few entries. He found it necessary to tell me that ANYONE could put me in a mental institution. Anyone.
I got to the airport three hours early and was patted down my back during security. I suspect I tensed up at the unwanted contact, but it was not really a problem.
I found my gate and waited anxiously as my voices started up and argued about whether or not I was going to be able to do this. As I watched, blood dripped from the windows and covered them in red.
I texted Marie frantically, and she reassured me. I could do this. I would do this.
I made it on the plane and found a seat. I almost talked to the person beside me, but my shyness won and I stayed silent. I wore my comfort plaid shirt, my heavy gothic jewelry, my snake earrings, and leggings. My hair was green.
I took out my computer while the plane was flying and worked on Socially Unacceptable. I couldn’t text Marie and my anxiety was rising.
When I arrived, I frantically tried to figure out what direction to go. Marie directed me. She had told me what she would be wearing the night before because of my face blindness. I looked for her pocket belt.
I saw her, and my voices faded. Excitement and nervousness and relief exploded within me. And it was worth it. It was all worth it.
Post 27 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.
The Queer Schizophrenic 