bi, bi, non-bi: the april b-side

(I am lucky enough to have a monthly segment with The Come Up Show Atl. It’s called “bi, bi, non-bi,” and is basically a check-in of where I’m at in my bipolar, bisexual (?!), non-binary adventures. What follows is the piece I didn’t read at April’s show. Thanks for being here.)

Hey!

I made you a playlist!

Because I love you.

Okay, I didn’t actually make you anything, but here are a few of the songs from my Spotify On Repeat playlist. I’m listening to these same songs over and over and over again, so they must mean something, right? Right?!

Bi #1: Who Will Stop the Rain?, by Asia.

This problem is insoluble

The answers seem impossible

The logic ceases to exist

Emotion is the beat we miss

Y’ALL. THIS IS ALL BANANAS, RIGHT?! This is bananas, and I’m just gonna get into it: I am not coping well. I was struggling before all this went down, and this? This is not helping. And the answers do all seem impossible right now, and, as it comes to logic, we have been betrayed by so many of those who are supposed to lead us, so what are we supposed to do? Where are we supposed to turn? I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing every day anymore!

Being inside my room all day, inside my HEAD all day… If you’re going through that Hell, too, I am SORRY. I wish I had anything more eloquent to say, because you deserve every word in every language that could possibly make you feel better. Are you also baking Kroger cinnamon rolls every week just to feel ANYTHING? I think that’s probably okay.

You are definitely okay. I will howl it until we both believe it, my friend. My heart.

I’m really lonely. I am writing all the time, because I am desperate to connect all the time. I even joined a Good Omens fanfiction Discord server, foolishly thinking that my anxiety could handle it, but NOPE. I am just a new kid in a new virtual cafeteria, and even though every table in here is the Nerd Table, I do not know where to sit. Do not know where it is safe to set down my backback, and make a new friend.

So, I keep writing. I have to keep writing. I feel like I have to write something truly brilliant to earn a spot at one of these tables, you know, which FUCK: Is that what all this has always been about?!  

FUCK. 

(I’ve had a lot of time for introspection, you see.) 

And, by the way, fuck you, Asia-the-band: Emotion is NOT a beat I miss! I think I might give anything right now for at least a brief interlude of numbness. I feel like I feel everything, and it is all happening all at once, and I am so fucking tired, but I also feel like my eyeballs are on fire, and, if I dare to fall asleep, the monsters have permission to come and get me and swallow me whole, and, as usual, it will all have been my fault. 

It isn’t “my fault,” but I’m sorry anyway.

Bi #2: (I’m Gonna) Love Me Again, by Elton John and Taron Egerton.

Singing, I’m gonna love me again

Check in on my very best friend

Find the wind to fill my sails

Rise above the broken rails

I feel so much guilt. I don’t need to get into all of it, it is not just my story to tell, but: it is hard to feel joy or excitement about what my Big Queer Future could look like, because I had to make an awful trade to get here. But I do see flashes of that Future, even now. Sometimes my broken heart stops beating quite so loudly, and above the quieted din, I can see a partner who loves me in this body as it is, for what it is.

Because there’s nothing about my body that isn’t worthy of love from the high forehead all the way down to the disgusting, runner’s toes, and they are gross, I promise. And maybe I am treading into water that belongs in the next category, but I want to talk about this now: I feel so much guilt, but I AM excited for Queer Love. Once again, I’m spending a lot of time on places like Tumblr, and I see two beings with bodies like mine, with pronouns like mine holding hands against sunsets, and I fucking yearn.

(Side note: Please consider this my official pitch for a dating app specifically for lesbians who are into theme parks. We’re calling it either Single Rider Line or FastPass, and I need someone out there to get on it. I am ready to hold hands in front of the Haunted Mansion with my wife, thank you.)

I will love me again, maybe even for the first time. I did not do anything malicious or bad, I just changed. I didn’t mean to, and I am sorry, but here we are. I will work on being my own best friend, because fuck, I am really truly stuck with this idiot all day every day right now, and I need us to be on the same page.

Non-Bi: Colors (the 2018 Coca Cola anthem for the FIFA games), by Jason DeRulo.

I’m ready, I’m ready

We still got a long way

But look how far we’ve come

Now, now, now, now

Hands up for your colors

(Okay, this song is mostly on here because I desperately miss my polar bear job. This song should have been the song we all danced to together at the end of our little floor show that was still in rehearsals when, you know, when everything closed. I never thought I could have missed dancing in a sparkly top hat inside a soft drink museum this much, but here we fucking are.)

Show your true colors, sings Jason DeRulo, and okay, Rum Tum Tugger, I am trying, I promise. For those of you watching: Hi! My name is Dani, and my pronouns are They/Them/Theirs! Write it on a Post-It for a handy reminder! Do I still get crazy bouts of Imposter Syndrome? YOU BET YOUR ASS I DO, AND IT IS AWFUL. 

Because we do still have a long way. I have a long way. 

“Way.” 

This is nerdy (isn’t it always?), but my fanfiction pen name is Waywarder. It’s from an As You Like It quote, shut up. But, the other day, in that Discord server I mentioned… one of the other writers called me “Way.”

And guys, I don’t know how to explain it.

Because there isn’t anything wrong with my name. There never was. I like my name. My name suits me just fine. But to have this other new and unexplored pocket of the world in which I have only ever wandered as this newer version of myself, and now to have a name to go with it.

“Way.”

Because I have come a long way, because I do not yet know the way, because I am travelling down a new way, to me at least. And it is way, way harder than I ever could have imagined, and I cannot wait for the day when I am standing up at the top of this mountain I feel that I am climbing, the day when I can offer a hand to all these other versions of myself who are making their way up as well, some more slowly than others, because we have to be in this together; WE MUST.

To take my own hand, and to smile with pride at how far we have come. 

To say to myself: Way to go.

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