[THIS IS A PINNED POST]

However, it has a deeper meaning.

I created this journal in July 2006, after my first trip to Japan. The main purpose was to write about my unrequited love and my burning desire for the boy I sang this song with at the karaoke. Over the years, I wrote about many other topics and people, but one thing remained: it's mostly been about nostalgia.

There was a long period when I stopped writing here. I thought I couldn't use this journal anymore because I had moved past everything that had been written. I didn't feel the need to write anymore. But a few years ago, the urge resurfaced. I tried starting a new journal, but it didn't feel the same, so I came back.

Over the past two or three years, I've posted stuff that doesn't really fit in here and I often feel like deleting these entries, but so far, I've held back because it's part of my story. It explains A LOT about me. (e.g.: in the spring of 2022, I was diagnosed autistic.)

Lately, I feel more nostalgic than usual. Probably because I've just turned 40. (But also because I found pictures I didn't know I had saved.)

I sometimes still feel like a child, or like the person I was between 2006-2014, but I guess it's normal considering my circumstances. I so desperately long for what I used to have. Even the little things that everybody takes for granted, like being able to go on a short walk, have coffee with a friend, or cook dinner.

It's incredibly difficult to look back and get reminded that I've spent the past 9 years or so almost completely isolated from the world. And it's equally difficult not to feel anger toward the illnesses that ravaged my body and left me feeling imprisoned. And also towards all the ableist people and doctors who didn't take me seriously, gaslit me, and could've prevented the worsening of my condition. Towards the lack of accessibility and inclusion in our society, etc...

I used to have such an amazing life and friends, I was living the dream! I'm so grateful for this period of my life. I try to remain hopeful for the future, but my hopes have been crushed so many times... As Dr. Elliott Carthy said when commenting on Céline Dion's documentary where she's seen in her most vulnerable state, having a Stiff Person Syndrome crisis: "When you have hope, you have something to lose".

A few years ago,
I got a notification on my locked screen.
It told me that you had liked a post of mine on Instagram.
I clicked on it, and it led me to a selfie.

Peacock green hair, banana in hand, and that choker...
However, by the time I saw it, the trace of your appreciation was already gone.
I wondered why.

I've been thinking of you a lot lately (and over the past year.)
I'm not entirely sure why, but I've got a few strong hypotheses.

I'm sometimes tempted to reach out, but I'm afraid that it would be inappropriate.
(The thank-you email I sent last year, when I was afraid of dying, doesn't really count, because I didn't ask for anything and told you that you didn't need to reply.)
I've never been good at figuring out what's socially acceptable, and my lack of filter often gets me misinterpreted.

I really miss reading your writings.
I wonder how you're doing.

I read some of our old email exchanges earlier, and it reinforced that.
I even found a .wav file you sent me 18 years ago, before we ever met.
It took me back, I shed a few tears...
And I found myself longing for one of your hugs.

Nostalgique un jour, nostalgique toujours...

Would it be silly to wish for a brief reunion over a cup of coffee one of these days?