Dear [ex-Friend],
It’s been a month since we last spoke, and I miss you tremendously. I miss the moments that we spent, discovering a new world together. I miss hanging out with you and our shared circle of friends. I miss our conversations, sharing secrets, fears, and pain with each other. I miss being your big sister, making your journey just that little bit smoother. I miss feeling that somewhere out there is a human being, understanding me with only minimal words.
But it’s over, and it will never be like that again. After all, it was only the illusion of closeness. I introduced you to my friends. I opened a safe space and offered a sense of normalcy. I comforted you, when you were in fear, and when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I enjoyed every single moment of that, and together, the world seemed just a tad more bearable. But it wasn’t real. You drew lines in the sand, were I hoped for your open arms.
You reduced me to an image that was never true to me. You called me a warrior. You adored me for my grit and my confidence. And yes, I can be all of that. But it’s only the outer shell of who I really am. Depending on the day, it is a tool or a weapon, a mask or a shield, and often just a role that I play, sometimes voluntarily, and sometimes because I must.
When I felt safe enough, I let my guard down, because I wanted to show you that I am so much more than that. I shared my pain and my longing for emotional closeness. I walked you through the minefield of memories I’d rather forget, places I’d rather not go, and events erased from my past. And in my most vulnerable moment, when I was balancing on the edge – you dumped me.
Apparently, you were not prepared to see what’s really inside me; I was just too much. There is the rage and the anger. The pain, the numbness, and the longing. The exhaustion from decades of fighting. All that damage from playing the same role that never fit me as a man – and fits me even less today.
It doesn’t matter what you call it. In a prior life it’s been the charismatic leader, or the alpha in the room. Now it’s the brave “visible” trans warrior. But it’s really all the same. It’s a part of me, but it doesn’t define me. Yes, I can fight, it’s all I’ve ever known. And yes, I will never back down – but I’m just so tired. I don’t enjoy these battles, never did. I fight, because it’s the only way for me to survive. But it takes a steep toll on me and leaves painful scars behind.
[ex-Friend], I know our paths will cross again. And yes, I will be friendly. But we can never be friends again. I thought you were special, but unfortunately, you are just like the others: An acquaintance for a sunny day; neither capable of seeing the real me, nor willing to put in the effort for true connection.
Good luck on your journey – but I can’t follow you there.
Love, Liz