April 17, 2022, Easterday and My 75th Birth Anniversary

 

4.17.2022Easter, My 75th Birth Anniversary

Marie,

I quiver. Now you have initiated some contact with me, and there my mood spins between delight and fear. The delight is that you do-too to a real level wannabe friendly; the fear is that 1. my joy will whelm you, flood you, run you off as they say, as well that my gushy eagerness with over-messaging will work to my being shunned; 2. I have conveyed to you: trannies are conspicuously and notoriously force into solitaire. . . While some of us get sad and in extremity suicidal over this forced isolation, the result with me is more like a terror that I might as over and over and over lose nice prospects for me.

I shall really try to seek a relational momentum that is you-centered, but frankly at the moment I have only marginal and likely sissy ideas about what that you-center might be.

Sometimes I write letters that never get to the party addressed, all the while with a conflicting urge to 'just spout it out.' You have encountered me as a 'woman of great longing for affiliation,' always, and to-a-fem-friend netting my having to-- per her orders-- 'get lost.'

The #MEKB blog will always be available for you-- I will probably hold-back in telling you that it exists, for all the immense uncertainty that will abide in our meet-ups until that 'click OK-ness happens, the real substance of we-like-each-other-buddies.

I hope this is ok. I hope I have not been too too too already. You are nice. You are in looks and mien attractive. . . I hope I can fit in with you, and you as ok with me.

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