i don't expect nukes. just surface-to-air ballistics. i've gone over the words to say again and again. the monologue is fine-tuned. but it's not gonna be a monologue, it'll turn into a dialogue i have no control over and cannot predict. I have a support system beyond my parents. they're not going to disown me or kick me out. I've been medically and socially transitioning for almost exactly a year - the anniversary is the end of the month. i've kept it from them because I haven't wanted to clean up the mess the conversation will likely leave. it didn't feel like something for them - it was something for me, and for nearly a year i relished having something - having this thing - that was just for me and the people i chose to keep close. but it's time to move into the next chapter of the story, and i can tell because of how bloody sick i am of duplicity. duplicity, and sneaking around, and holding this thing so close to myself because i was afraid that they'd break it. the truth felt delicate and i didn't want them to look at or talk about it, much less handle it and make it partly their own. it worked for a year. and it doesn't work any more.

they're going out of town for the day in the morning. i'm going to wake up early to catch them before they leave. maybe it'll be perfect - a quick chat before they leave and can spend all day thinking about it and talking about it themselves.

writing this all out feels lonelier than i thought it would.

if anyone out there has some hype i can borrow, i promise to return it.