Blankness
I think everything that happened with Sol began when they started identifying as non-binary. That was the singular event at the heart of everything that destroyed our relationship. After they started binding and using they/them, they were upset and offended at the slightest things, and I felt like I was treading on eggshells when I did anything. They became less compassionate and caring, less like they wanted me to like them, and more like my feelings were the byproduct of them having a female body. They didn't like how I didn't have a strong reaction when they told me they were non-binary. I didn't realize it meant they were going to start changing their appearance and behaviour. In my mind, coming out as non-binary was them finally transcending the binary, not them appropriating traits from the 'other side'. Things just weren't the same anymore but I didn't really realize until it had become normal for me to avoid sex.

I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago while I was self-destructively going through all the pictures we sent back and forth through the years, that as soon as they cut their hair and started binding, I began to repress my sexual attraction to them. It was not instantaneous; in fact when they came home with their shorter hair, I was very excited and thought they looked gorgeous. I was proud of them for doing something they had been thinking of doing for a while. But as time passed they seemed to become more and more disgusted by their own body. Or rather, they seemed terrified of the thought that they attracted male attention because of their feminine features. They were terrified of being raped. I still found them attractive, but it felt like they were going out of their way to look and act masculine, without opening up to me, or considering how this might affect us, like we weren't a unit, but two isolated people who happened to be living, eating, and sleeping together. And I'm not sure if I even should have had any choice in the matter-- who am I to stand in the way of someone's gender expression?-- but with this change came a new attitude that was extremely at odds with the person I had met two years earlier, and it seemed entirely rooted in fear and loathing of their own body rather than a disillusionment with the gender binary. They never seemed as happy after they fully committed, and the more they changed, the more they seemed to be on edge, acutely attuned to the possibility of being misgendered. It got to the point where being seen as male was one of their main sources of validation and being perceived as a woman was an insult, and they lambasted even the slightest slip up where I called them "her" instead of "them". I took the brunt of this verbal abuse, even though I was obviously the one who was trying the hardest to act right. This had a serious impact on my ability to communicate with them about even the most trivial things. I was afraid to watch movies and TV shows with them because I knew if they saw something sexual they did not expect, then I would be blamed for showing it to them. It felt like I had to pass all of my speech and actions through several filters before performing them, and even then there was little I could do to avoid Sol's often far reaching negative interpretations. At this point it felt like Sol, contrary to their intentions, was now more a slave to the gender binary than ever because they tried so hard to exist outside of it.

This also affected our sex life, perhaps more than any other part. It was as if they had systematically started removing the sexual aspects from our relationship. The casual touching as we walked past each other in the kitchen that once elicited a playful reaction was now looked upon with scorn. Holding hands just did not happen anymore. If I touched their breasts or butt, they would sometimes recoil as if I was a molester and shame me for focusing on their body. So I had to restrain myself, and virtually stop altogether. Of course they were allowed to touch me whenever they wanted, and for a while they would do things like grab my dick at random, try to finger me and, I guess, try to get me in the mood and so on-- really intimate, personal stuff- but I felt like they viewed any of my touching like they would a sexual assault. I started feeling ashamed for liking their body when they were so hateful towards it. To have them recoil so strongly at my touch made me feel like they saw me as a rapist waiting to happen.  Ironically, during this time, when they would molest me like that, I would also sometimes recoil and push their hand away, which upset them. This led to me not being able to perform, and after some time it just felt like a chore to go through the mental rigmarole of trying to reconcile my feelings with theirs all while trying to feel good physically. I expressed how I felt to them a few times, but they were never receptive and I didn’t really know how to explain how I felt at the time. But I know they knew how I felt about rape and sexual assault because I told them a couple months after we started seeing each other that one of the most traumatic moments in my life was when my partner in a previous relationship had told me in anger that she had never once consented to sex between us and that all the intimacy we had was rape, and how I had been struggling for the greater part of a decade not to internalize these feelings and see all of my sexual acts as rape. It was hard for me even to conceive of myself being in a real relationship because of this, and early on, I was terrified of making Zoe feel the same way. I felt guilty by design for being born with a male body. In fact, it was immediately after I told them this, bawling my eyes out, that  they told me they loved me for the first time. I know they knew. And it feels like it came full circle, but inverted. All this is to say that Sol inadvertently helped cultivate a sexual rift between us where they could behave in whatever way they wanted and I was discouraged from acting sexually. They wanted me to have wild and passionate sex with them while also shaming me for being sexual. Even broaching the subject, the few times I tried, was met with hostility and prejudice, as if saying "you cannot have any problem at all with how I behave because it is MY gender identity". The problem was never their identity though, it was their inability to be self-aware and talk about it without knee-jerking to anger. How can I be intimate with someone when I feel I humiliated for liking them? Now I can’t really think about sex or do anything sexual without this immense guilt and shame hanging over my shoulder.

And they knew something was wrong. But I find myself confused. They didn't seem happy at all, despite claiming to be so liberated. They seemed angry and scared. And if this didn't make them happy, if it doesn't bring them lasting pleasure or joy or comfort to feel masculine or non-binary or however they truly feel, if they seemed so happy before they had this epiphany and so cloistered, defensive, and detached after, why did they even go through with it? What made them so angry? What made them want to identify this way? Did I play a part in it? Is this all a lie they are telling themselves that has spun out of control out of stubbornness? Is this wholly organic, did I have no impact?

 In my mind, we are all nothing, blank slates that we paint actions and traits upon to convince others we're a certain way, but we're blank and malleable at the core, constantly changing in a state of permanent transience. I think everyone is at least fleetingly aware of this in some aspect. If I say I can be one way, I can. I can just act differently, be different, train myself, unlearn habits with a strong intent, and rebirth as a new person. When the facade of all this is cast aside and we can both acknowledge our essential blankness, we can effortlessly start over as new but familiar people in each other's eyes, accepting the only thing that truly matters which is the kernel truth of our characters, our intent to not cause suffering. All we have to do is agree to it. This is my nihilism that Sol is so intent on misunderstanding. It is not negative, it is not positive; it is nothing. We are nothing, and to me it is liberating, to know that even in my transience, even though I am nothing but what I say I am, someone could love me nonetheless. And I them. The root is in forgiveness and acceptance, with oneself and others, and unfortunately, these are attributes that Sol does not hold for me.  But I don't know if Sol feels the same way. Honestly, I doubt it. Even if they did, would they admit it to themselves? I'm not sure it would be worth it to try because they're so stubborn and unstable, and they can't see their own blankness, even though they were at the helm of their own transition. I know one thing is true. I loved Zoe with everything I had and I regard my time with them unequivocally, the bad, the good, the manias and ecstasies, as the happiest period in my life thus far, and I doubt I will feel like this about anyone in the future. The person I love is Zoe, and Sol is like a stranger to me.

 It hurts that I can only experience one side of this nightmare, that I only have my perspective and that getting any truth from Sol is like squeezing milk from a stone. The only thing I have wanted through this whole breakup is honesty. To try honestly, to speak honestly, to live honestly. It hurts that it ever came to this, and I narcissistically wonder if they would even identify as non-binary if I hadn't been in their life. Did I ruin them? This is the second person I have been with who has turned out like this. Do I have some curse? Is there something so repulsive about my masculinity, diminished as it is, that compels people to abandon gender altogether and fear the eyes of men? Or do I just have a type? Does this have nothing to do with me? I don't know anymore. Am I a narcissist for thinking any of this is the result of my actions?
Sol is spiralling into addiction. They seem to avoid ambitious goals. They jump back and forth between people they like, appropriating their traits and then avoiding them when they get too used to them. They project their problems onto others to avoid confronting aspects of themselves that might be causing them harm, and they react with hostility and deflection to even the smallest concern for their wellbeing. Their choice is the final say, and to second-guess their choices is seen to them as the ultimate affront to their liberty. So nobody questions them anymore, and the only people who want to be around them are people who have no large stake in their wellbeing-- enablers, yes-men, and casual friends-- so they remain cloistered in a perpetually correct bubble as their friends talk behind their back about how frustrating their behaviour is and the people who love them just sit by and watch as they retreat more and more into a state of hedonism and avoidance. And I don't know how much of this is just my own anger manifesting as a treatise on Sol. Maybe none of this is right. What I do know is that Sol is not happy, and I wish they were. I worry about them having a breakdown and having nobody around to help them through it. Above all else, even above my own happiness, I just want Sol to be truly happy. And I miss Zoe with all my heart and mourn them like someone who has died.

But who knows what the future holds? We're all just nothing, blank transient apes stalking the Earth in search of meaning where there is none. Next year Sol will be different, I will be different, everything will be different. Everyone I talk to tells me that it’s for the best that we aren’t together, that Sol lacks the emotional maturity and stability to have a real relationship. They hurt me deeper than anyone has ever hurt me, but honestly, still, all I want more than anything in the world right now is for them to talk to me.