You know, I started typing up a really bitchy message just now. I stopped the second I thought I might offend any of my friends who may or may not read this. But I can’t. Because though they aren’t always there, or understanding or prepared for me, I still love them. My body won’t allow me to express it even in the simplest of words, but for this blank piece of paper, my fingers can muster the letters. Sometimes I just wish I had them closer to me so that all the others who hurt me, who leave me, who just don’t, won’t or will not even attempt to understand or even get to know me, wouldn’t hurt so much. I don’t really need a support group, I need the support of you guys. I am so emotionally blocked that I may never be able to repay you. I have listened, I have sympathized, I have tried to understand everything you have told me. Just do me those, in return. It would help a lot right now.
My ranting by no means targets anyone. But I will say this. For all those out there who have allowed me, or asked me, to just vent it out to them, I love you for your ears. But I hate your mouth when it says “your strong, you can handle this.” Fuck that. My heart cries for those posts I have read not only because someone is feeling so horribly, but because I can relate. I don’t need to be told to “handle it” or to be questioned about it when most of the time words won’t apply to what I am feeling. I, like anyone else, would like a damn shoulder, or a hug or some understanding. Not randomly. It isn’t like reading a chain letter and then doing what it says. Do what I do. Observe. I am a part of this environment like the rest of us, I show signs that are fairly readable. If you want to do something amazing, do it then. I will come to show you more love and more of me than most can get. Just be prepared to see that “strength” I have been holding up, come crashing down.
I realized quite a while ago I hadn’t posting anything in a long time. I do that a lot. Instead I end up doing what I do best. Observing. One of the things that comes with observing life as it happens is it causes emotions to be drawn out of you. For instance, on here, I have been reading every LGBTQ post and liking them. I hate like buttons for things such as those. I don’t like that someone is feeling so much pain or is so alone. I FEEL that, I have lived that, I am living that and more than likely I will continue to at some points live that. And yeah, it sucks, but it’s life, and life tends to be a bitch like that.
I hate to say life is that way, when I know it doesn’t have to be. Quite possibly it may not be. It isn’t. Do I hate my situation? Oh hell yeah. Nothing like forcing yourself out of bed to go out into a world that stares at you, giggles when you walk by and makes every living part of your body crawl with worry, self hate and the sense of being unsure of yourself. That is of course if I can make it past the mirror in the morning. But hey, you know how it is, you apply some existence of hope to the equation and your on your way into the daylight.
I would trade my life in a heartbeat to be you. I don’t want to be transgendered, who really does. I am a giant with a voice to match. I awkwardly wander around trying to keep my eyes from ever coming across a person. For me at least, I like to read people, and damn does it suck when you can read most every stare or expression. My shoulders, my hands, my feet, my jaw. The list goes on people. All these things are physically the male I was. And for most people who don’t get close enough to hear me, not my voice or my heart, believe it’s who I physically am.
Change. I am not a positive thinker and really right now I am going through enough of that. Collectively, I am a realist. If a chicken lays a golden egg, then I will believe it when I see it. No sooner. But already, I have weighed those possibilities. I don’t need to be reminded of who I am. Sucks. To the good I am “she” and I do things in the pretense of “her”. To the bad, I am “he” and it’s “hey man/dude/bro”. But the ugly part, to me they are all lies. For being called a guy, your more truth because that realist part of me knows what is physical, but you can tell damn well I am not. As for being called a girl, more or less your just trying to help me out, and I love and thank you for that, however, I can’t stand behind you if you don’t believe it and see it. Hell I can’t even act like myself because I am so tensed up and torn between he and she alone. Shit, it would just be easier to be that guy I was that didn’t give a damn, at least I didn’t have to convince someone with preconceived notions of who I am.
Regardless, it is places like this where I vent these emotions. Blank canvas’s, empty air. Funny thing though, I have gone some time without any. Makes sense really. What you don’t pour out, stays stashed away for later. It is how the body works. I have held onto my emotion, scratch that, I HOLD onto my emotion like it’s a stock maturing for my grand retirement. That’s the damn truth too. Because when you lock it up, for this reason or for that one time you didn’t wanna let it out because the people you were around might take it the wrong way, you stack it till the point when it does come out, your drained. It is amazing to watch. There are nights, though few, where a friend of mine finally gets to the core and shakes my spine. The tears that roll down my face are immense. And like sunshine after a storm, my back opens up and I feel relaxed enough to laugh.
Now, I can’t tell anyone how to live, but I have a thrive for knowledge and as we know, being a realist, I still keep it real. Listen to your body. Learn about it, treat it with care. I beat mine to hell but we came to an agreement. Everything you feel, everything you think, even the things you never bring to show and tell, they are in there. They are locked up, and damn well didn’t do any crime. Just relax and fuck the rest. Being transgendered, I am focused inwardly on my transition. I would love to be a part of this world and I can. I am. It isn’t a matter of the world sucking sometimes or of negative vs. positive thinking. It is a matter of focus. A matter of freedom that only you can bring from within yourself. A soul in-tension, that’s learning to fly.