Die Snake, Die

When I was a boy, I remember going looking for snakes and other reptiles with my father. My father is a man who vastly enjoys finding and protecting reptiles and amphibians. I was never the enthusiast, I've always been more of an indoors kid anyway, but there was something always deeply unsettling to me about snakes. And this discomfort would well up every time I was around them.

But I wasn't afraid.

I couldn't be afraid. 

How could I be afraid of something my father so clearly loved?

 So I would hold the snakes and I would search for the snakes. The hunt for the snakes continued, even with my apprehension.

Now I could never tell my dad that I was uncomfortable, he loved snakes. I didn't want to dissapoint him. And I wanted to love snakes too, even though every time I saw one I suddenly became deeply uncomfortable. And I was a scared kid, heights, new food, breaking rules, other people, girls, boys, being late, being wrong. But not of snakes, no, never of snakes.

As I grew up two things happened, I got over a lot of my fears: I rode zip lines high above the ground, ate new foods, broke countless rules, met new people, dated girls, kissed boys, I became a very late person, I spend a lot of my time being wrong, I stopped being so afraid. The second thing that happened, was I saw way less snakes.

I still was afraid of things, needles, spiders, death, but everyone has phobias.

But not as many as before. And I wasn't was not in no way afraid of snakes.

As I grew older I would find my own interests, new interests, and not accompany my father on his snake hunts.

Do you ever go a long time without really thinking about things? 

For instance, as a writer who lives in Boston, snakes aren't a big priority on my mind. And so it was a really long time before I ever thought about snakes. I would think about grades, I would think about boys, and girls, I would think about rock music, I would think about how Michael Bublé is just the straight man's Rufus Wainright. I would think about new stories, but not snakes, and I didn't have to, again, I live in a city. The closest thing I see to a snake is a rat's tail when I'm on the train too late at night. So snakes never grazed my mind, and I never had to think about my totally-non-existent-fear-of snakes-that-I-was-in-no-way-afraid-of.

But one day we had to give presentations in my speech class, and a girl Ana gave a speech on why snakes shouldn't be killed as much as they are and feared as much as they are.

And I began to panic, and feel fear.

Holy shit: I'm afraid of snakes.

I've spent my whole life ignoring the fact that I am fucking terrified of snakes. 

And it's not my dad's fault, I just wanted to impress him, but holy shit snakes make me so afraid and uncomfortable.

And I know what you're thinking. "No shit Bailey, you're afraid of snakes. Why am I reading this?"

But hold with me, I promise there is a point here.

And it fucked with me, it rattled me (pun intended) because I have been able to repress for so long that the idea that snakes terrify me out of sheer stubbornness, and how long we're able to lie to ourselves and put off self-confrontation. And it also shook me that I felt so ashamed suddenly that I was afraid of snakes. I'd watch my younger siblings go after them with such zeal and I'd always move too slow to catch them. I'd always be caught off guard, I'd always jump- just a little. But I'd never admit I was afraid. 

Now repression is nothing new to this blog, I talked about it last year with my David Bowie post and the tale of losing my virginity. But this isn't trauma, this is just me lying to myself for so many years, and for what point? Did I feel that this is where I needed to be manly? Is this what I needed to be masculine about? Why? I've never been the most masculine of people, so why is it that I still felt the need to be masculine then? Why did I feel the need at that moment to be false and strong?

Masculinity, specifically toxic masculinity has been something I've railed against for such a long time. This idea that men can't and aren't allowed to express emotions without being labeled as weak or wimpy has been such a disgusting idea to me for so long. And there are so many things that "men aren't allowed to do" It's so weird to people that I want to learn to knit, or I think there are better songs for women in musical theater for women. I like Ke$ha and Taylor Swift, I cry, a lot. I love clothes shopping, I like talking about how I feel. I think that traditional men's clothing should be more interesting like women's clothing. As a cis-male I have three choices in underwear style. I couldn't even name all of the cis-female underwear styles. I love Gilmore Girls and rom-coms. 

But I'm still sometimes trapped in this box of not being able to self-express. Even with all my fucking forward thinking and free will I still get caught up in toxic masculinity. I'm at times really afraid to tell people how I feel, or be vulnerable. Sometimes I'm afraid to be affectionate.

For instance I have a friend who I kinda had a falling out with, who I really want to reconnect with, but I'm so afraid of the vulnerability in asking to talk again and hanging out, that I still haven't done it. I have hard times telling my parents things (like the fact I have a new girlfriend, surprise!) And I shouldn't, I don't want to live trapped by this fear of expression and vulnerability. 

The fist time the idea of being a feminist was introduced to me was when I was a junior in high school, and I realized that it was something for me too. Being a feminist not only meant fighting for women's equality, but also against toxic masculinity. It meant I don't have to fit into any sort of strict category to be considered a "man." And that was a really important lesson to me.

Being in Boston made me a little freer from that fear, because people are so expressive and accepting and varied there. It's not like back in Newfield where I was called "faggot" for the one time I talked about liking "Love Actually." And that's not even a super feminine thing! Love Actually is just a really good movie. And I liked penis long before I saw that movie. But I digress, I'm freer in Boston than I was at home, but I'm still not totally free. I still struggle with the things I've been taught in society.

I struggle with opening up at times, and talking about my feelings when there are consequences to how I feel. For instance, in class we could be looking at a picture of a man and I could go, "That man is hot!" But if I sat next to a man I found attractive I'd have a much harder time telling him. When you add stakes to feelings, then I'm shit out of luck. I don't want to be like that anymore. If I can ride ziplines nearly a mile long or cliff dive or risk my life with little worry, I should be able to tell people how I feel. And I'll start now:

 Dad, I'm afraid of snakes. I always have been, I'm sorry

I guess what I'm saying is that the expectations of others, be it my father expecting me to be okay with snakes, or society expecting men to be tough and emotionless, is a toxic cycle. If the snake represents the idea of masculinity in this drawn out metaphor, then sorry Ana, and I'm sorry dad, but I say:

Die snake, Die.

<3

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

(In no way do I endorse the actual killing of real snakes)

All in all, You're Just Another Brick in the Wall

I was going to put the blog on hiatus, work on other projects, and take some time for myself, but now is not the time for that. I want to, I need to say something.

Those of you who are friends with me on social media have seen me talking about it all night/day. But I feel the need to just write this, even if it's just for myself. Even if this helps not a single person other than myself, I will write it.

This is an incredibly frightening time, I cried this morning for my sister. A young girl in a conservative town who is gay. And I'm sorry Cam if I'm not supposed to talk about it, but I'm doing it right now. I cried this morning thinking about her, and the world she now lives in. The people who would oppose her now have had their vileness reaffirmed. But I so desperately pray we go past that. We don't do that. But we see the wrongness that has been exposed in our country, that we as people, not, as a government or as parties, but we as a collective people can join together and make this world a better, kinder, and more accepting place to live.

I know that Donald Trump is a symbol of everything that frightens and hurts so many people I love, and myself. But I promise you are not alone. I promise you deeply, from the bottom of my heart, you are not alone.

I've seen people I idolize crumble in the face of this new world we live in. I talked to my father as if one of us were dying. I watched Stephen Colbert lose the will to make jokes and light of this situation. I felt myself be swallowed by hopelessness as the numbers rolled in. And even when I finally went to bed 12 hours ago at around 3:30, I saw that Donald Trump had won, and I didn't believe it. I hoped that if I went to bed I could wake up in a slightly new reality, that the moment where I read the words was a dream, brought on by the stress of the night, but it was not. And as I awoke the next morning, that was confirmed.

Now I am not here to spread hate, or anger. I refuse to hate the people I know who voted for what they believe in. I can't do that. And maybe that comes from a place of privilege and if so I am so sorry, I do not mean to perpetuate that. What I want to perpetuate is love, and understanding and forgiveness. I've watched hell erupt on Earth the last 24 hours. I woke up yesterday having a panic attack about the election. And I refuse to push that on to others.

I can't promise everything will be okay, and I refuse to send out empty promises. But I know that I still believe that this isn't over yet. The race maybe over, but the world, it is not. We will persist. We will move on, we will fucking survive. We will find love and compassion. We will protect the people we love, we will still find a way to be on the right side of history.

There will be people who want to come out as their true selves. As gay, or trans, or bi, or pan, or asexual, or anything else, and they are now in a society that has leaders who are against that. And I just need everyone to know who reads this, you are not alone. You are never alone, you will never be alone. There will always be someone to love and accept you, I promise. Even if you are now in a world that doesn't seem like it, I promise this hell will pass. This fucking hell will pass.

We can do better, America. This isn't who we are. This isn't what we stand for. I promise you that it is not. And I'm so sad, and sad isn't even the right word, I'm so disenchanted to see that this is who and what we have representing us as a nation, but I hold on to hope that we will be better, that we can be better. That this isn't over yet. Tomorrow the sun will rise, the sun will always rise, and one day, the sun will once more rise on a world that I can be proud of.

The city of Boston is quiet today, strangely quiet for this city. But the city is in mourning. Maybe we as a city aren't perfect, but this isn't fucking what we stand for. Maybe Hillary Clinton wasn't perfect, but that woman has been shit on too much by the American people to be as evil as she has been made out to be. I just can't believe it, maybe I'm wrong but I need to believe that there is good in her. Because the man in fucking charge is not a man I can find good in.

I believe in you America, you fucked up, but this isn't who you have to be. You can rise above this, you can be more than this. You can move past this and become the ideal you so tightly cling to. You can be a haven and a utopia for all peoples. I believe in the greater good, and the basic good in all people. And after last night, that's hard. But I believe we're more than this. As a country, as a people, I believe despite our differences, we can be more than this.

I believe in a better tomorrow, I want you to know, whoever is reading this, that I believe it will be okay, and that someday, we will be able to look back and be proud of who we were and what we did when the world went to shit.

I don't have the answers, but I do have hope. And for now, that will have to suffice.

I love you America, you let me down but I still love you.

You're more than this.

Fuck Hate.

Love.

Stay strong

<3

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

The Bisexual Agenda

I've been debating how to write this post for the last six months, but I feel maybe it's finally time seeing as it is national coming out day.

For those of you who have missed the memo, I'm bisexual.

I know, crazy. The guy with 18 exes is also into dudes, and that's hard to swallow (heh) but bear with me, and I'll tell you my tale.

I started questioning my sexuality the November of my junior year. And I told two people, and then spent the greater part of a year trying to repress it. I'd make jokes about how hot the Avengers were, but for the most part, I was unable to come to terms with my sexuality. It took a lot of alcohol (ahh, underaged drinking) and a willing gay friend on a warm summer night for me to finally come to terms with something I had been battling for a year. I was overjoyed, and very drunk. I texted my two best friends and I told my girlfriend.

She was less enthused.

Not that she wasn't supportive, but it's hard to hear that your boyfriend got drunk and kissed a dude. I'm sorry about that.

But it was nice to finally be able to come to terms with a part of myself that I had been in turmoil over for a long time. But then there was the challenge of coming out. Something that frightened me to no end. I teased it on the blog a little,I told my friends, I told my sister, I told my new at the time girlfriend, I told my dad when he asked, he told my mom. Finally, December 28th, 2015 I came out on my blog. It was a hard thing to admit, because in my head, I was defined by my girlfriends. Coming out meant letting go of a part of me I had so long defined myself by. But I've been glad about it ever since.

At my graduation party I kissed a guy I had been flirting with for lord knows how long. But for thsoe of you who follow along at home, that was right after the big break up, and I was emotionally unstable. Too unstable at the time for a relationship. He was willing to hook up, and part of me really wanted to, but a larger part of me was afraid. I didn't want my first time with a guy to go like my first time with a girl, and end up hurting me. I didn't want to have it be a hook up, but I wasn't in the place for a relationship. And then I ended up in one anyway. Whoops.

A lot of my summer was me using my emotional instability as an excuse to hurt people, and I really regret that. But I've done my best to make amends, and I've finally said the things that I lacked the ability to say at the time, so I move past it.

Being bisexual is in itself a new problem. It's not really understood, and it's seen by some as a fad. It's seem by some as a phase. Some people try to quantify it or split it into being part straight and part gay. But it's not, it's being attracted to two genders. It's not part straight part gay, it's not a percentage, it's bisexual. I have a type for guys and a type for girls. And it's not something I want really commented on. It's a very personal subject that I'm still understanding myself. There's no real guidebook for being straight, and there is less of one for being bi. While that does not excuse the mistakes I've made, I hope it will give some people cause for patients and compassion.

I'm young, I'm still figuring it out.

I'm Bailey S. Fox, I'm 18 years old, and I'm bisexual and proud. Every day I wear my bracelet with the bi colors. I mourned the gay men shot in Orlando this summer. I mourn the gay men killed in the middle east. I am hurt every time more anti-lgbtq laws are passed. I am hurt when being bisexual is removed from lgtbq causes. I am hurt when tv shows can't admit characters are bi, or when being bi is a punchline.

Happy coming out day, everyone.

And for those of you reading who are still in the closet, you are loved. You are strong. Do not feel fear to be who you are, but do not feel shame for staying in the closet. Just know the people who truly love you, will always love you, no matter what.

Thank you for reading.

Love,
Bailey S. Fox

Boston, a Love Letter to Home.

It's been a while since I've posted, over a month actually. Whoops.

The intersection of my narcissism and my nostalgia can be found at the Facebook feature "On this day." And as I've gone back the last two or so week, I am constantly reminded of one fact:

This kid, wanted to fucking die. Not like edgy humor wanted to die, but regularly had thoughts that it might be better to just not exist.

And that's a really hard memory to come to terms with. It's one thing to kind of objectively talk about it, but to be reminded and to see photos reminding you how depressed and how much you screamed for love and attention on the internet it kind of disturbing. It upsets me in a very specific way. I'd run through the woods to try and free myself from this turmoil. I'd spend hundreds of dollars over the course of months to get out of the house because there was this manic frenzy in me that wouldn't let me stay home. I had to keep running, running from myself. And I tried to write it away, I tried to justify it. "I am a chaotic being. I thrive on change and movement. I find my rhythms in the live syncopation of the world." And that's still true, to an extent. But it was me trying to justify, trying to run from a deeper truth, I wasn't happy. And I tried to hard to be happy, and I'd never let myself get there. I was so afraid of other people, I was so bricked into my space into the wall that the idea of moving and perhaps collapsing the metaphorical wall paralyzed me with fear. So I ran, I ran from myself.

The whole year I kept running. I ruined a relationship because I couldn't be happy in the moment, I kept having to create a perfect future for us, and I pushed her away. Then I started another relationship that almost entirely existed in running away from the last one that had such a imagined future we barely knew ourselves in the present. I kept running, and kept overlooking my mistakes. I ran so much that weeks later entire things would come crashing down on me, I didn't fully break down from my second to last relationship until I was in my last one. And that was so stupid of me, I never would let myself stop long enough to feel. I kept running myself ragged. At one point I was so bad over the summer I worked myself until I literally collapsed from exhaustion. I was scaring myself, but I didn't know how to stop. I ran and I ran and I ran. And I kept trying to justify it to myself and to the world.

And that stemmed from this insecurity, this inability to be alone.

I would spend way too much time worried about what to wear, or how I looked, or how I sounded, or how I acted. There were so many layers between me and the world. And I preached emotional honesty and expression to my friends but I didn't even know how to open up to them for help. The help I needed. It would only come out in these breakdowns that were erratic. And this all was only a year ago. I wrote these posts about fear and my break up and my pain, only a year ago. And I spent so much of that time repeating my mistakes and hurting people. I've pushed away people who I love so much out of fear and impulsiveness and bad choices. And I've tried to right my wrongs, but people are still hurt, and people have that right to be hurt, because I fucked up. And here I am, for the upteenth time writing about it. And at one point, it doesn't matter what I write anymore, because I say the same shit.

So why am I doing it then?

Because in Boston, things are different. I wear my glasses regularly, most of the time now. Something I was too self conscious to do back home. I've worn outfits that would put last year's Bailey in a panic attack. I spend time around my friends in pajamas, which sounds banal but its something I couldn't do before. I'm taking active steps to produce my work. I'm sharing and talking about my writing, I'm auditioning for everything I can, I'm making new friends, I'm standing up for myself, I'm taking new risks, and I'm living in the moment. I'm expressing my feelings and taking steps to coexist with them, I'm trying to be a better person, I'm trying to be someone who stands up for himself and what he believes in. I'm trying to do all those things I kept swearing I would do. I'm going out and seeing the city, I'm chasing my dreams with ferocity, I'm failing with glory, I'm trying my hardest. I'm doing my best to make my family proud, but I'm doing it for me. I'm doing this because a year ago, that boy, screaming and sobbing hysterically in his father's car because he wanted to die. That boy who took a chance and stayed around and put himself out there, I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this so what I preach to my friends isn't empty rhetoric. I'm doing this so that boy who took a chance and decided to hold out a little longer, I'm doing this all so it was worth it.

I'm writing this and doing this for everyone who has doubted if it's worth it. Because a year ago I had nothing. I hated myself, I wanted to die, all my friendships were floundering. But I fixed them, I made new close friends, I met new people and let myself love and be loved and take risks, and I fucked up, so grandly, but I did it, and now I'm trying to do this right, I'm learning from my mistakes. I'm living my life and making the risk worth it. I'm trying to show people that the risk is worth it, because it does get better, it does improve, life is worth it.

I'm doing it for this kid.

Who would go home that night and cry himself to sleep.

I'm doing it for my family and for my friends who believed in me when I couldn't believe in me. For every fight and screaming match, I'm doing it for those. 

I'm doing this because that kid, would in just a short time meet so many people who would help him learn, and help him relearn, time and time again, that it was worth it. 

This post isn't me admonishing home, or praising Boston. Because Boston would not, could not, be what it is without all the lessons I learned from home, I had to do everything I did, and learn everything I did, and go through all that shit, for Boston to be able to be the amazing opportunity it is for me. My work and life in Boston, is a love letter to home.

I know this is a very personal post, and maybe even too personal for some, but I'm writing it so people know, that someone has gone through it, and come out the other end of it stronger and better for it. 

I'm doing it.

Thank you for reading.

I love you all.

It's worth it. Don't forget that.

<3

Bailey S. Fox

With Love.

I in my unyielding arrogance, I have decided to write a farewell letter, kind of like a farewell address, like a president, except I'm not president of anything, as Sara Barellies will sing you, I'm not king of anything either.

If you go back and examine my last four years you will see a long endless list of contradictions and mistakes and anxiety. Mostly anxiety. I want to say that I did my best, but I'll admit, there were many times I could have done better, I could have been better. There have been times I could have made different choices, ones that wouldn't have hurt me, or hurt others. And I regret not making those choices, because never once have I wished to hurt anyone. My only solace is that through the chaos I have created, I have come out happy, and intact, for that I am thankful. If you give monkeys eternity and typewriters they'll compose the complete works of Shakespeare, if you give me long enough, order too, shall arise from my chaos.

I can only hope that with time, people who care to remember me, will remember me fondly, I know this sounds more like a suicide note than me saying goodbye to my home, but to be frank with myself and everyone, I have no long term plans to return to Ithaca and Newfield, or even really New York. I've known this is not where I belong, and that's okay, I've made my peace with it. I've done the best and all that I can do with this home, and now it's time to move on to the next one. I'm thankful for everyone I have had the privilege to meet, you've all done so much for me, I'm not sure I can ever repay all of you.

To the adults I've met, thank you. Thank you for teaching me, thank you for guiding me. I wouldn't have made it this far without you.

To my friends, I know I haven't always been the best or the easiest, but you've helped me be the best me I can be. Thanks, team.

To people who I've hurt, I'm sorry, I hope one day you'll forgive me. I've tried to do all that I can do to make amends.

I look back on my time in Ithaca with pride, I know that if I could go back, I'd make new mistakes, and wanting to go back and change the past is dumb. All in all, I'm very happy with who I am and where I am as a person. I've done my best.

Someone once told me during an argument over whether Aaron Burr was a good person or not that it's a matter of perspective, and that I myself might be the villain in someone's story, which was a kinda shitty thing of them to say in retrospect, but I understand their point. I've done my best to be a good person, but I know that I have fallen short before. I acknowledge this, not in seeking pity or anything, but in hopes that I can in the future, in Boston, hold myself to a higher standard. And one day, look back, and know that I did my best, and I got it right.

What am I leaving behind in Newfield/Ithaca? I'm leaving my name on a plaque in the high school, I'm leaving behind friends, family, a dozen jobs, the streets I wandered, I'm leaving behind the stories people will tell of me, of Denny's and fallen slides. I'm leaving behind a younger sister and brother who will shine more brightly than I ever could here, and I'm proud to say that. I'm leaving behind a smattering of younger friends who I hope in some way, I have changed their lives for the better. It's hard to say what I have left behind. "Legacy, what is a legacy? Sowing seeds in a garden you will never see." I'm not sure how often I will return to home. I will return to cheer on my friends, the people I love.

I have learned to be at peace with my emotions, or at least the fact that I feel them. I have accepted the fact that I cry, I have accepted that I am quick to anger, I have accepted that I love hard, I have accepted that I am easily distracted, I am flighty, anxious, I have accepted that I love flower prints, I love hearts, I love. I accept that I love.

When all is said and done, I am proud of what I have done, because I did my best, and as I've been told, by best is enough.

So in conclusion, what's the point? The point is that I have loved. That is what I have to be proud of, I love. I love without fear, I love without question, I love. I try to tell the people I love that I love them. I'm so thankful for each person I have met, every interaction, everything. Every bit of my legacy I have left behind here, has been because of my love. My love of performing, of attention, of music, of people, of intimacy, of everything, of being alive. I'm so thankful for each moment I was permitted to exist, I wouldn't give any of them up. I was so privileged in my time here, I'm so thankful. Thank you. What made it all worth it, every tear, ever moment of pain, every angry moment, every anxiety attack, everything, was the love behind every damn moment.

The reason I am who I am is because I love. I will never apologize for that. I may not have always been right, but I have always loved.

Love is love is love is love is love is love is love.

Damn it.

My advice to everyone, is love more. Tell the people you love that you love them. Love everything, everyone, every moment you can. No amount of repeating it will ever make it mean less. Because love is not something that can go away, it's not something that has a finite supply, love can't stop, won't stop. Love.

Thank you to everyone who has ever loved me back.

Thank you to everyone who let me love them.

Thank you.

I'll make you all proud.

I promise,

I'll write again from Boston. Because even though this is goodbye, this is not the end of my story. This is just the beginning. I'm going to do everything I can, I'm going to change the damn world. I'm going to save the damn world.

Watch me.

Thank you for reading. <3

Love,
Bailey S. Fox

Love,

Happiness is

It's hard to say what happiness is, because it's really a concept. I can see a small child smile on the street and be happy for a moment, but on a larger scale, I could be miserable. From what popular culture taught me, it's either a warm gun or daytime and nighttime, there's a lot of conflicting messages.

I want to be happy, but being happy is a lot scarier than being sad. Because sadness can't be taken away from you. There's no mourning the passing of a sad time in your life. But when you're happy, happiness can be taken away from you. And happiness can be romanticized to the point of impossibility. If you look back on a lot of your good memories they do that thing like at the end of Inside Out where they're both sad and happy. Or any combination of emotions, really, but that doesn't flow into the narrative I'm trying to write into here, does it?

A huge theme of my summer has been happiness, and chasing it. From the breakup, to thinking I never wanted another relationship, to then accidentally going on a date, to a new relationship. From parties, to friends, to concerts, to work, to writing, to walking, to seeing Hamilton, to any other number of things I haven't written in this list. I've spend the summer, for the first time in my life, doing things for my own sake, and honestly it's been the best summer of my life.

I'm not bending over backwards to try and make someone else happy, I'm not in love with an idea, I'm not being miserable for the sake of it, I'm loving the people I love, and most importantly loving myself.

Happiness is a tricky thing, last night, I talked my best friend out of suicide.

And I'm happy that I did it.

I wasn't happy in the moment, I was stressed and afraid and there was so much at stake, but with the help of her other friend, her parents, and a few others, I helped ensure the world was able to benefit from my friend's continued existence. I helped ensure I was able to benefit from it as well. There was not a moment I regretted helping. There was nothing that I thought was too much, I never felt my friend a burden. Only a friend, my best friend, who I knew would do anything for me.

And I'm happy I did that, I love to help people, it's what I do. I'm almost always willing to help anyone, always, I hope that my writing helps people. I write for me, it helps me understand and deal with how I feel, but I always home that my writing helps others. I hope that they know that they're not alone in this world with how they feel. That somewhere, someone else is feeling what they feel. And that they feel better about this.

Another example of the mixed bag is me coming out as bisexual, on one hand I felt this huge wave of relief when I did, I felt like I was being honest with myself, finally. On the other hand, I was met with a lot of new questions from people, a lot of new expectations I didn't know how to deal with. A lot I didn't know, I still don't. But I'm happy I did it, the effort I go through is worth the satisfaction I have of knowing I can be honest with myself and people about who I am.

I want to make a difference, in the world. I want my words to change something, even just one person's life. To make it better. I want people to know that I love them.

Because you need to claim happiness for yourself, you need to give your permission to feel happy, you need to forgive yourself for being happy. You have to accept that it's scary, that you can lose it, but that's what makes it worth feeling and having, because nothing gold can stay, ponyboy. But who the hell wants anything less? Go chase your bliss, claim it. I believe in you.

And that's really easy for me to preach from behind my computer screen. It's easy for me to idealize it, like it's that easy. I know it's not, I honestly know it's not. When I get bad, I stop sleeping, I stay up late, I get up early, I skip meals. I run myself down, pushing my soul against a grinder, it's my way of hurting myself because I feel I don't deserve happiness, health, or safety. And I have to rely on my friends to pull me out of that, because I can't do it myself. I'm too afraid. Because again, I can have that happiness, but I might lose it.

But I think that's why I stayed with my ex when things went down hill, I thought it's what I deserved. I thought that was going to be the happiest I was allowed to get. My emotions were tied to her whims, it was a roller coaster. I was a yo-yo. What I learned that it's better to be miserable on your own accord than rely on another for your happiness. I hold no ill feelings against my ex, because she too deserves happiness, and if anything, we were making each other miserable. I hope she's doing well.

Anyway, back on subject, happiness is a slippery thing. And that's what makes it valuable, if we were able to be happy all the time, then it'd be much less worthwhile. Happiness is not a destination. You can't follow the treasure map, ecstasy does not mark the spot, happiness is something you always have to work for, and you're not always going to be happy, and that's okay. It's okay to not be happy, but you deserve happiness. You shouldn't appease others at the cost of yourself. Other people shouldn't be relying on you for their happiness, you make yourself happy, other people can worry about themselves. Love one another, do nice things for one another, but make yourself happy first and foremost.

I think we should all tell each other we love each other more. Tell the people you love that you love them, every second. Not even because it might be the last time you get to, but because you deserve to be honest with how you feel. And they deserve to know how you feel. Love, tell the world you love, wear your heart on your sleeve and be proud of it. Do not become hard in this shitty world, be vulnerable, be loving, because that is strength. Take chances, be stupid, be naive, be young, be virtuous, be late, be on time. Be whatever the hell makes you happy. The world will be a better place, you can make the world a better place, love.

Stay alive, do not just exist but live. The world is a beautiful place, you're a beautiful people, the world deserves you, and you deserve the world. It's worth it to be alive. I promise.

And

I need to claim happiness for myself, I need to give myself permission to feel happy, I need to forgive myself for being happy. I have to accept that it's scary, that I can lose it, but that's what makes it worth feeling and having, because nothing gold can stay, ponyboy. But who the hell wants anything less? I'll go chase my bliss, I'll claim it. I believe in me.

I am trying to be happy, every day.

I love you all,

Chase your bliss,

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

Being Alive

So I guess this post opens at the close (I've been rereading harry potter lately,) because last night, my (now) ex dumped me. (Don't worry this isn't going to be all about the break up, there's a larger point here.)

I have a lot of feelings about it, but also a larger understanding that it was for the best. We were quite literally about to head opposite directions in life, and in the end the strain would have ruined the longest and the most stable and happy relationship I've ever had. And so, she had both the brains and the balls to end it before it was ruined.

And it hurts, I'll tell you it hurts. I went to bed last night hoping I'd wake up and it was a dream. (Spoiler, unless this is a Christopher Nolan movie or an Episode of Doctor Who, it wasn't a dream) And so I woke up, and that was the reality in which I now lived. And I don't want to go into the break up, not really. She initiated it, it was a kind and peaceful break up, and I cried. I cried a lot. But it was good, I needed to, too often I bottle my emotions up and I don't let myself feel and then four years later I have to announce to my parents and the world I lost my virginity at 14 to a girl who cheated on me because it was still ruining my life. So I'm killing the hydra at its source and I'm talking about it now.

It hurt, it still hurts, 20 hours later. It will hurt tomorrow and likely for a while. I'm taking time off from dating, not because I think it's right but I'm emotionally incapable of dating right now. I'm being shitty to my friends because I feel incapable of making most decisions. I don't know what I want, I don't know what I need to ask for to ask for help. I don't know how to ask for help because I don't know what will help me.

Truthfully I want her back. But I know that won't fix things. I know that won't fix me.

I think people think I'm a lot more emotionally open than I am, but it's truthfully very hard to open up to people on an intimate level. Like and tell people how I feel. I can write this blog because no one who reads it is really going to attack me, or what have you. It's a safe space where I can express a certain level of emotional honesty without having to be intimate about it. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, part of a break up is people, (And thank you to everyone who has checked up on me, it means the world to me. I just honestly am at such a loss on what to ask for in terms of help. I don't know what I need and I don't know what to tell you.) asking how you are and how they can help. And like I just said. I don't know how to ask for help, I don't know what will help. Time, I guess. Time will help. Honestly despite all the people around me who love me, I feel very alone. Because the one girl who I wanted to be with the most, knew, and for the best, that we couldn't remain together.

And it's hard, because this was the first time, that I thought maybe, it wouldn't end. That she was who I was supposed to be with forever. And that wasn't the case. And while that's such a high school thing, it's still a thing I felt, and it was real and valid to me.

It's for the best, I know it is. I'm leaving, and I've wanted to leave my whole life and now I can, no strings attached. But what hurts most is when you wanted that string there.

I want everyone to know, that I will be okay. I know in my heart I will get past this, I just need time. I need time and to keep moving forward. And one day, I will wake up, and I will realize that I am over it, and the pain is gone. Because I'm sad, and the pain is there, but the pain is not my mood, it's just something I carry with me, I live my life continuing to do what I do every day, and I carry the hurt with me and I exist and I feel other emotions at the same time. And one day, I'll come back to ground zero, or maybe I'll find a new one. Maybe this is a reboot for me. Maybe like how in Archer they keep like "Rebooting" the series every season, that's just what's happening. I'm forced into new circumstances and I have to do what I always do and that's power through and kick ass.

It's not like last time, I'm not broken, I'm not suicidal, I'm not self destructive. I'm okay, I'm just sad, and in time I won't be sad. And until then I pray everyone has the patience to let me be sad. I don't need to be fixed. I just need people to love me and tolerate me until I'm back to the smartass we all know and love. I'll get there, just give me time.

I'm okay because I know part of love is opening yourself up completely and accepting the risk you'll be hurt. And I was hurt, but I wouldn't trade this pain for anything in the world. What I learned and what I now have, it's worth the pain. I learned, I grew, I like tea now, I can appreciate Shakespeare, I read Pride and Prejudice, I came out as bisexual. I learned to open up and surrender myself to one person. Someday, someday I will be able to do it again. All these things, they're worth the pain because in the end they made me a more interesting and better person. They made me who I am, and I'm happy with who I am. The pain will pass, this too shall pass, but me, I won't. I'm here for good.

I was told last night, this is a blessing in disguise, that this is for the best. Because this made me who I am, and while I hurt now, I get to present this new kickass Bailey to Boston, and change the whole damn world if I please.

For now, I'll keep writing, and I'll keep doing my best.

Thank you all for reading.

Thanks for being my therapist, internet.

I love you,

love,

Bailey S. Fox <3

(Now Ex, if you read this I'm sorry, I know you hate when I'd write about you, but this is how I cope and I needed this.)