To My Younger Self by Nicholas

Frequently, I have conversations with myself. This is one I imagined between myself now and myself prior to coming out. It’s kind of a distillation of thoughts and counter-thoughts that occurred years ago or last month or yesterday. It’s a dialogue for one person.

Remember those walks we took, long meditative walks through the leafy, green forests of Ohio where the ground was wet and the air was wet with summer heat and I felt free, I said?

We spent hours walking softly through the soft shade of the soft forest just taking in the quiet, said he.

And i: You always had an independent streak, like the day you took off on your bike to crash through the neighborhood boundary and go riding through other neighborhoods in the city.

And he: You later took that desire for independence out into the world, to get out, to seek out, to discover and explore.

And i: We went into the city, we rode the Rapid into downtown, we went places to look at books and eat ice cream.

And he: You were courageous.

And i: That was courage?

And he: You didn’t have to.

And i: You were curious. Alone but always curious.

And he: But independence turned into loneliness, unloved and unloving, on my own. Things could be different.

And i: Yes, things could be different. I came to my senses, finally coming to myself. Yes, I had to.

And he: Eager to join the world, not just travel through it.

And i: I started seeing meanings and patterns that told me who I was, why I was, and who we were. I was brought up to see meaning, to find meaning, and suddenly it was there.

And he: It was a busy time, full of thoughts and actions never before taken or taken seriously. Hush, I said, listen, don’t talk, be quiet.

And i: We went to the woods and the river.

And he: I found release. Release to be a kid and play and release to grow up and own it. To make decisions and own them and own what followed.

And i: I found love, to be loved and to be loving.

And he: And I found love where I hadn’t thought it could be found before.

And i: Coming out was really a coming into: coming into love, relationships, fun, community, history.

And he: You won’t leave me now, will you?

And i: I won’t leave you and you won’t leave me because I can’t leave you and you can’t leave me.

—An homage to William Faulkner

About the Author

Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.