I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

What’s in a Name?

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

But is this true? If given the option, we would name something Rose over Shit. Shit would give a bad impression to others and they would avoid it. This thing we have named would no longer be positive. If this were a living thing, the name would not only affect reactions to them, but would affect them as well. A child named Shit would understandably develop self-esteem issues. An animal or plant, being avoided by others, would evolve differently, as well.

Names matter.

I’ve gone by many names in my lifetime. For over a year, I had friends who never knew that the name I went by was in no way related to my given name. I’ve had usernames and nicknames used so often that my first name became unfamiliar to me.

I’ve been DuckDuck for about 7 years now. It became so real to me that I began using it in other places. Those who knew me better often call me Duck or Ducky, but DuckDuck was well-known.

DuckDuck was a persona.

DuckDuck took on different roles, based on need. They were all from a genuine place, but the qualities were selected from the pool of who I am, then emphasized. It’s what we do, right? Different people get different sides. But on the internet, especially when you make yourself known in a variety of circles, it’s all too easy to hold back parts of yourself.

DuckDuck took over my life. There was very little that was not related to the internet in some way. There was no balance.

I began slowly pulling back. DuckDuck showed up less and less. She lost some of her power. Accepting that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. She was a force. How could I let that die?

But you know… I used to be a force, too. I had my own kind of power. All that DuckDuck achieved and all of her potential came from ME. And that’s just a fraction of what I can do!

DuckDuck still exists. She’s not going anywhere, she’s just not working so hard anymore.

And if you like her, you should meet me sometime.

Hi, I’m Lindsey!

Connections (sleepy rambling)

The Internet is a wonderful thing. You can look into a device in your own home and communicate with people all over the world in under a minute. You can develop lasting friendships with people who you will probably never meet. Some people even fall in love before they ever feel the electricity in one another’s touch.

But the Internet also breeds misunderstandings. How often have your words been misinterpreted because another could not tell your tone? If a word was misspelled, the wrong emoji was used, or the words were arranged in a particular order, one could easily receive the wrong idea.

And what about the connections? You can feel so close to someone so far away, but how much is getting lost over the distance?

If you’ve read any of these entries, you know me. You know depths to my soul that many do not. You know such intense emotion and wandering thought and dreams I do not usually share. You do not see my tangled, unwashed hair. You do not see me stop and stare at the screen, wondering how I’m going to bring this around to what I really want to say. You do not see my silly expressions or hear my random noises or feel my gaze. You miss out on so many huge parts of me that cannot be properly described.

So what does it mean when someone online cares for you? Is it really you if they have limited view? Perhaps they care, but can they like you? Can they truly love you if all they see is what you consciously show?

And how do you know?

They may say how they see you, but so much is open for interpretation. As you sit, enjoying stillness with them, are they finding it awkward? In the world of “lol,” is the person as amused as they seem? Are they nervous to talk to you? Are they doing it out of boredom or a sense of obligation? When the screens go off, do they even remember you exist? Do they miss you?

No one likes to speak out. When they do, they often over- or under-exaggerate. They do what they must for you to see them in a certain light. To not take a risk. And these words, so carefully chosen, often have many meanings. If someone “loves” you, are they loving you as a part of humanity? As a friend? As a love interest? Are the nice things they say purely politeness? Meaningless flirting? Genuinely from the heart?

You could feel that your life would be empty without this person, yet they would hardly notice if you disappeared.
You may consider this person an interesting friend, while they’re falling in love with you.

And some of this also happens in person, but it is so much easier to de-sync through our screens.

All we can do is keep trying, and hope that
to someone,
somewhere,
we matter.

I have been falling asleep while typing this. I hope it makes sense. If not, well.. who cares?