Mourning Los Angeles: Otherness Made Manifest

I came out here watch the sun set over the barren trees and snow. Returned a call. Was engulfed in sorrow. The enormity of what this place has taken from me. Emotionally. Financially. Mental health. Physical health. Abilities I didn’t know I could lose. The complete isolation I must live in now that human contact can kill.

I did get what I came for. This wonderful house. Financial stability. I lost everything else.

I mourn Los Angeles to this day. The art community. Academia. The brilliant people I loved and respected. Taco trucks everywhere. The ocean.

I’m old enough to understand what really matters. What I came for. What I have. But, being treated in this way by everyone I have interacted with or known here in Reno has had an effect.

Desolation outside. Desolation inside. Being cast out again. And again. And again. To the point that it is clearly me. Why, I could not say. They treat me like I am sub human. Not worth caring about. No matter what transpired between us before.

Well, I finally figured, now that I have gotten that message. So loud. So clear. So many times. I’m getting with the program. I’m not human. So many strange things have happened to me or around me? Something’s up.

The tumblr youngsters have a word for this, “otherkin.” Certain the othering has been made clear.

In the immortal words of National Treasure Ivana Trump, “Find something else.” Alrighty.

What kind of Otherkin? That’s too personal to share here. Even if I had figured it out.

It’s getting darker outside. I’m watching AHS: Hotel. Staring into this bleak, hostile, dangerous abyss of outside makes me want to roam the halls with a candelabra, wailing.

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