Megan tells me about her desire to see gay Christians mobilized to do Bible translation. She tells me that W should want me. That they should be sad that they don't have me. That PBT, the organization she's part of, should be sad that they don't have me. That I have all the right skills and that I'm the perfect person who should be a part of PBT.

For the most part, I think I'd much rather be a family physician. But I'd also really love having my job be just going to a place and practicing/learning the language of wider communication and then settling in to learn the minority language and do community development and other stuff with it. And I feel a tinge of envy that some of my friends will be able to do that and just devote their lives to it. Maybe someday. Maybe even both jobs.

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One of my friends (~acquaintance) was at graduation and told me that she laughed out loud when they announced my name. Whereas the other graduates had descriptions like "So and so is going on to serve in Papua New Guinea as a translation consultant," I just had "David Wang, in absentia, is continuing his studies." That was because when the Dean of Academic Affairs asked what we were doing after graduation in an e-mail, I could only stomach ticking off the box "School." I didn't even respond to any of the e-mails asking if I was going to be present at graduation, which was last Friday.

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Last night was my last night in Dallas. After a small going-away party that my grad school friends held for me, I drove across the street to GIAL, started walking around by myself at 10 PM and eventually began saying, "I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you." to so many doors, rooms, and buildings. I let the scenes of memory fade in and out, reflecting on the excitement I had to continue learning linguistics when I got here, how nervous I was that I would be an awful student, how happy I was during my first semester, and how invalidated I felt as a human being as second year went on. How maybe someday, I'll be okay enough to join a Bible translation organization.  But then again, I don't even know if I'll ever be okay enough to consistently go to a church anymore and not feel like I'm dragging myself to go each week.

I said "I forgive you" so many dozens of times as if saying it more would make it true. I forgive the people who (to me) didn't do enough. I forgive the people who left to do other things. I forgive the people who ruined my experience at the school. I forgive the people who were just ruled by a corrupt system that sees LGBTQ people as automatically lesser and "worse Christians." I forgive the people who just wanted me gone from campus already.

There's a hallway in one of the buildings where various important linguists or GIAL people have their headshots framed with a little description underneath them. One of the frames is a mirror, with a description that says something like, "This great future linguist graduated from a small but quality school focused on helping minority people groups." I've always thought it was rather cute.

I stood in front of that mirror and told myself, "I forgive you. I forgive you."

I forgive myself for coming here. I forgive myself for not doing more. I forgive myself for doing so much. I forgive myself for running away. I forgive myself for despairing. I forgive myself for wishing for non-existence.

I forgive myself.