Don't Start Anew

Quinn stared at the wall. He didn’t have the attention for this right now. He never did this time of year. With the sun coming out and everything fully thawed and his birthday right around the corner he began to feel untethered. Like his body was aimlessly wandering. Poetic. Summer was a good time for depression and writing poems and painting and starting projects and giving up on projects.

Summer was a time when Quinn just wanted to lay under the sun and let his insides rot like the fruiting trees outside his apartment.

Quinn couldn’t do that of course. He had 2 final papers to write and a final test in his statistics class required for his major. He had to come to class, and focus, and figure out what he was doing after graduation. He needed to apply to grad school soon. That was in July and would start next Spring.

He sighed and tuned back in to the lecture. It wasn’t even boring, his skin simply crawled. Uncomfortable. Restless. He needed to get out of here. Quinn always had that feeling. Get out of the city. Get out of his hometown. Get out of this body. He couldn’t run anymore. Not for the time being.

Quinn wanted love. He wanted care and others and to feel loved but more than that he wanted to run and be alone. Let nobody know who he is, who he was. Live in a city where nobody knows him and he can truly be anonymous.

Quinn unlocked his door. Stepped through the threshold. It was hot. Of course it was. Things were hot here now. His ribs itched. He hadn’t had any new hallucinations in a week. That had to be a good sign. He was getting better. He was better.

Quinn touched his neck like things would be different. Like he wouldn’t just have his poorly shaved neckbeard stubble there. He needed to get out more. He needed to do something.

Quinn sat on the couch with a bowl of chips and listened to music. He was fine like this. He would graduate soon. He needed to figure out what he was doing after graduation. He needed a break. Quinn stared at the ceiling. Nothing would change if he did nothing.

The sun streamed through Quinn’s blinds in the morning. He made himself breakfast. He made himself a person. Quinn got ready. He should make a facebook account. Maybe that way he could find more in the community. Maybe he’d find someone who wanted him. The idea of romance made Quinn want to throw up.

The ground breathed under Quinn’s footsteps as he rushed to the bus stop. That was his least favourite hallucination. Who could want someone as complicated at him? The sun was too hot and it was still early morning. Quinn wished his skin could stop crawling. That he wouldn’t feel phantom wings growing under his back. Knives sprouting from his forearms. Teeth lengthening into larger fangs. A tail sprouting from his spine. Something to make it obvious how much of a freak he was.

None of that happened.

Quinn sat down at his research position and did the work of a grad student he didn’t even care for. He thought about abusing his printing powers. Everyone else in this lab was graduating except for him, the lab lead who was a teacher, and the person who was volunteering to look good for grad school.

For a moment, Quinn thought about the guy across from him. He was a nice guy. Good to work with. Also straight. One of the few straight guys in Psychology. That mere moment of even considering being romantic with him made Quinn want to barf. He wanted romance. He was sure of it, but almost any time it began to feel too real it was too much.

He could be someone’s third. Or like, the child in a relationship. Quinn would be happy with that. Being with a couple but not in the relationship. Being loved. Being touched. Quinn never wanted to be touched. He longed for it. Someone who would know what to do. Someone who would want him for more than his body, but be able to act like it wasn’t more. It would be just badly enough that Quinn would be able to see it leaking out of the corners, but not so bad he wouldn’t be able to ignore it for a night.

Quinn went to class. He acted like a person. He smiled and participated in class. He could feel his body starting to rot. Maybe someone would be able to notice the snail trails he was starting to leave behind as the flesh expanded and constracted. The slime of fruit left in the fridge too long and begining to mold.

Quinn didn’t really want to decompose, but he’d take being fossilized in a bog. Frozen in ice. Laying down in the forest and letting the animals pick his bones clean, and for the bones to be overcome with moss.

Quinn lay on his couch with a bowl of chips. He listned to music. He thought of a million things he should do. Of things he wished he could do. Of things he never seemed to have the energy or motivation to do.

Quinn messed with a memorial. It felt wrong, pulling out cards and labels and pieces of artwork and moving it. He had to weatherproof it though. The clouds were alreadys tarting to unleash rain. He would hate to see all this love get water damaged.

Quinn never knew the woman who died. She was just like him, probably better. She had chosen the last name Blessing, and it sounded like she lived up to it. She had friends who loved her very much. She got to be remembered as she lived. A woman with dreams and excitement. She was killed for the crime of being happy and alive. If he died for being trans, would anyone know? Would he be allowed to rest as a man? He had done nothing legal for it. Legally he was a woman. Legally he wasn’t Quinn. Would the people who knew him care? How long would it take to notice?

Quinn ran to grab papers that were blown away in the wind. She was loved so much. Could Quinn say the same? Would his murder be investigated? Would Quinn get to be remembered as Quinn? Would he be remembered as a he? Or would they conveniently forget as people so often did. Would his death be erased as another woman’s death? Would his efforts to be a man go to waste?

Quinn didn’t rememebr the name of the women who he was doing this with. Two other trans people. One of them had organized the canopy they were placing everything under. The other was like him. Someone who showed up to help with the manpower of weatherproofing. Some of the pages were already waterdamaged beyond legibility. Gone like the woman here.

Blessing.

She sounded like she lived up to her name.

Quinn lay on his couch and ate a bowl of chips. He needed to go grocery shopping soon. He needed to do a lot of things.

Quinn thought about Blessing. His bottom lip quivered. No. He wasn’t going to cry here. Quinn pushed himself to sit. His knees pushed up to his chest. He hated his chest. It was so uncomfortable. He wanted wings to push out of his back. He wanted bigger, sharper teeth. If he could be violent, if he could be angry enough and take up enough space, maybe more people would finally see him as a man. Did manhood really have to be this? Would he have to emulate the worst parts of masculinity to be accepted as one?

Quinn didn’t cry. He sat with that lump in his chest as his eyes stopped being misty. No tears fell. His nose was wet, but nothing a tissue couldn’t fix.

Quinn stared at the ceiling.

He lay on his couch eating chips.

He stayed isolated.

Alone.