thompson harvard - d2 fin

When I was left to fend for myself, I often used the telescope to look up at the sky at night. They always talked about how they wished they could be a part of the stars - to escape, become one of the beacons of hope in the dark sky for those who felt lost. For people like me. They wanted to be a signal of hope for people who didn't feel wanted or desired or like they fit anywhere. It was hard for me to feel that way following their disappearance because my moms were the only ones who made me feel like I did fit. They proved to me that having a unique love was okay. It doesn't matter who you are - as long as you love someone, and they love you - it's okay. They told me that my identity was important. That was something we discovered as a family before they disappeared. We adopted new pronouns for me, and at that moment, I felt safe. I felt like my uniqueness as someone who didn't fit the mold of the Male/Female power dynamic mattered. I used to, at least. They made me think it was okay to be different. Now that my moms are gone, I don't know what's safe and what's passing.

Just so we don't get confused by the usage of Mom and Ma for the rest of this, let's use their actual names. Mom #1 is- was Blair and 'Ma' was Sylvie. They both met at a place called the Harvard Academy. For a long time, it was an all-girls academy. I remember they would tell me as a young boy that it was a lovely place for them to find each other and find solace in each other's feelings and emotions. Which made sense. It was a "good place" is what they said.

I guess there's something within them that knew this was going to happen someday. I've just always been confused as to why they never tried to put us into a better situation. Was it something they would never escape? Is hatred for people like them that strong in the district? I didn't think it was. Though they've lived a longer queer hell than I have, so I can't judge them. Anyway- they talked about this place (the academy) a lot. Especially as I got older, and it got closer to when they disappeared. I remember Sylvie mentioning that a really sweet girl they remember named Delilah took over it and turned it into a foster home for LGBT youth. I guess they knew her. Maybe that's why they talked about it so much. I don't know.

All I know is I'm here now.

The academy has a focus on the arts. Luckily, astronomy falls under that category. It's more science, but there's an art to how the stars align to make out the figures of legends. The stars align to give a story to those who don't have the voice to give it. I like to write in the notebook they provide to us whenever I do my weekly stargaze. I normally only get one "stargazing night" per week - something about not wanting me staying up too late. I like picking out a new constellation every week. With the help of the textbooks they have on storage in their equatorial tower/room thing, I'm able to figure out what their story is. I then write it down. Once I finish writing the story, I write a wish at the bottom of the letter. Most of the time, the wish is "to see you soon". When the story is written and the wish is wished, I tear out the page and fold it up. I hold it up to the stars - hoping that the people who live amongst those stars can guide it to the hands that I want it to reach. I don't know if it'll ever reach them because I don't even know if they're alive. But as long as the stars shine, I know that they love me and I love them. And that's all that matters when the letter leaves my hand to be taken by the wind. Maybe a bird will shit on it. Maybe someone will find it in the morning and read it. I hope they do. Maybe they'll become as fascinated with the stars as I have.

Other than astronomy, the academy has introduced me to music. I've always known music obviously, I've heard it throughout my entire life, but there's never been an opportunity to take part in the music. The instrument I found my way to quickest was the flute. Maybe because it was the closest thing to the telescope Blair gave me. It reminded me of her, and it gave something else to commemorate her and Sylvie. The flute was also incredibly easy to fall in love with due to how beautiful it was as an instrument. How the fiddle of my fingers could cause a riff heaven would open its gates to. Every time I played the flute, I felt like I was an angel. I loved it because it, like the stars, could tell the most beautiful stories without having to say anything. However, in comparison to how the stars bless your eyes, the flute blesses ears. It's one of the few times I'd ever consider religion.

The main reason I liked the stars and the songs that the flute whistled out was because it gave a story without me having to say it. I could play a series of notes on the flute, and it could mean anything - happiness, sadness, love, envy, the sweet naive giggles of a young girl chasing butterflies. The stars in the skies have enough legacy and legend to them that the textbooks have the words for them. I don't talk much. There's not much to talk about - so much of the world around us tells the stories that we need told. So much of us tells our stories. My constant double backing to make sure I'm not imagining things, or my hesitance to trust people with the delicate emotion of love. The worry in my eyes in every action I take. I fear the world - I fear what they want with me, what they think of me. Because if Sylvie and Blair weren't good enough, with their starstruck dreams and kindhearted natures, what crack would I ever fit between in the wall of hatred?

I've never had enough friends to compare myself to other boys my age, so I don't know where I stand when it comes to being average looking. My longer brown hair provides a shield from the sun when it's too hot and a nice place to run my hands through if I ever get nervous. It calms me down to play with my hair, so I don't mind the length. Blair used to worry about it, but she isn't here to stop me anymore. I'm rather slim because I don't eat. It's not that I don't want to - I just never remind myself to eat because I never think that I'm worth the plate of food. I'd consider myself taller if I had to say anything with my age. Blair and Sylvie always talked about how tall I was, like it was something out of the legends from the constellations. I sometimes wish it was like that. I wish I was one of the stars that held a legacy to it. Maybe that way people would be interested in me. Maybe that way they'd want to hear my story. Because if there's one thing that I am, I'm the constellation of a boy whose harmonies cannot be heard.