Today is the one year anniversary since I moved here to Boston. It’s a hard day. I love Boston. I love the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made. But, it’s hard because it’s overshadowed today by the end of my relationship with Leif. We’re still living together, for now. He’s looking for a new apartment so he can move out. I’m in full support of this–I know it’s the right choice for him and ultimately, probably for me. But, in the meantime, it sucks. He’s been literally my best friend and the main person in my life for the last 13 years–basically my entire adult -life–except the last few months where we haven’t been able to talk. My heart is broken from losing my best friend like this. What we had was special, and I’ll never believe otherwise. It didn’t work romantically, but I never thought I’d lose my friend when our relationship started falling apart after I came out. 

Seeing him so sad and miserable, knowing he’s hurting too, is painful. I wish we could just support each other but it’s impossible. He isn’t ready for friendship, and I know deep down that I’m probably not either. I know hugging him would feel both good and awful. We don’t know how to talk, how to feel, how to support the other. I want him to be happy, truly. I still love him. How could I not? That love looks and feels different than it did when we moved here. I don’t think it’s romantic. I don’t want a romance with him anymore. But, that care that we had for each other? The understanding we had for each other? I could tell him anything. I could trust him with anything. I could ask him anything. I could rely on him for anything. That partnership, that was special. He wanted to keep the partnership going after the romance ended. I tried. I couldn’t. It was too hard, my feelings for him too complicated. Neither one of us could be the person that the other one needed or wanted us to be. But I wish I could have kept him as a friend. Why can’t friendships have that same level of trust? Of support? Care and thoughtfulness? I think they can. I didn’t think I would lose that. But I did. I did because of my actions, not because of my identity. 

I moved on. I told him I couldn’t be with him as a platonic partner because it was too painful, and I was right. I couldn’t. I wished that I could have, but after I came out as trans our feelings for the other didn’t align anymore. And I have changed. I continue to change. Not just physically but emotionally as well. I feel different. I feel strong. I feel happy. I feel like I am free to be me. I am terrified of what that means for future me in this political climate where trans people are under attack daily, and even the democratic party is dropping support for trans protections.

Ugh, I’m realizing that my emotions are kind of all over right now. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m happy. I’m scared. I’m tired. I just want to exist as a trans person without all the pain that comes with it every. fucking. day. I just want to be me, without losing friends. Without losing relations. Without having to defend my actions. Let me exist. Let my community exist. 

So, here’s to one year in Boston. May there be many more, if that continues to be the right path. But, we’ll see how things shape out for the trans community. I refuse to live somewhere where I can’t be me. I’m done hiding my identity. I’m done hiding. The king is dead. Love live the queen. Her name is Shiloh Zelda Lawrence, and she is a fucking queen. I am a fucking queen. 

— Shiloh