You might think I am stupid. This trampy little, loving Sootah alien being all concerned.
I know it’s strange to worry about a person I barely know and all we ever had were just few email conversations about being trans in India, horrors of hormone therapy and financial troubles but it’s been a long time and she has stopped mailing. I am worried for her life. I am worried because she pronounced my fears too. She never even introduced herself properly to me and probably that endures her beautiful mystery. She swooped in with a dramatic response to one of my blog posts from last year and told me that she was homeless and struggling through her transition but I gulped her story and tried to move on. Ten months later, similar waves roared over my head. I found myself in a bizarre situation, not homeless, but twisted into an uncertain cold war. In those moments of loneliness, I thought of her. In these days of running and trying to make our lives work, I try thinking that maybe she is fine too. Why the fuck do I have be to so filmy all the time, man? Maybe she is actually doing very well with her life and has a boyfriend and money and family and has abandoned her old email ID? What do you think?
It's interesting how other people's experiences and especially as women/queers/fighters all circle up in one big pool where we have all our strands to pull but our stories are not that different. Sharing makes our lives more colorful, doesn't it?
I really wish you are fine lover and it's sunshine, where you are. Where I am. And where we all want to be.
*DREAMS*.
(Those are my loverlygurls' hands! and excessively ring-ed. Mine)
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