Phase 10

Not sure how I will make it through Lily’s teenage years without you.

I vividly remember how wicked pisst I was that you kept calling my Scene / Emo / Straight Edge lifestyle “a phase.”

You were right about the gauges; I don’t want floppy earlobes. Black hair did wash me out. The facial piercings did keep me from getting a job. Some of my tattoos are ugly now, and it does cheapen my overall look. I don’t regret, but I can admit that you made some good calls. Oh, and it was a phase.

Last night, Lily asked me to watch a video on “Therians.” She explained this is what she is, and it will never change. The best comparison is probably “like transgender, but with an animal.” Per Google, “Furries” are fans of anthropomorphic animal characters as a hobby or fandom; whereas, “Therians” identify as non-human animals on a spiritual level.

I know what you’re thinking. You have Bobcat jokes up your sleeve, but I was a toddler.

Since she’s still young, I hope it isn’t a freak flag, but I warned her that she might be bullied. I touched on safe spaces, safe people, and how we are all allowed to be selective about disclosing unusual information about ourselves. She insists she does not care if people think she is weird. Good for her! I love her—Man, wolf, or Satyr. I told her so.

Far be it from me to presume, but I smell a phase. Maybe she needs to decrease the hours of RPGs? Perhaps she’s wild? Who knows.

In unrelated news, I’m taking her to a therapist tomorrow. Her name is Katie.