feel like i haven’t posted on here in a dog’s age. it seems almost impossible to do almost anything anymore. feeling destroyed internally, like incinerated, mutilated, utterly shredded, as if there were a mosquito bite where my heart’s supposed to be. the more i try to take care of myself and go out on a limb to be myself and try to be happy the clearer it becomes that i’m never gonna make it home to anything but chaos living as this. thankful at least for the fact that cigarettes exist. otherwise i’d be so fucked. lately there have lots of bees outside my house. a hornet stung my leg and now it feels like a black hole is growing on my calf.
every time i leave the house and try to enjoy stuff that should make me feel good or at least nostalgic, like going to my favorite bar, it just feels like burning. it’s hard to describe. i always have so much to say and most everyone i find out in the world has so little patience or willingness to understand. sometimes i intimidate people without meaning to; i’ll be ignored from that point on OR (i’ve had this happen a lot), people who seem to feel threatened by me will turn around and assert dominance by arguing fiercely about nothing. the other night, some wench at the local tavern i like to haunt sometimes started screamin at me about hilary clinton. even though i wasn’t really listening, just staring at the sky and trying to drink a beer, i must have said something to set her off. in high school she had sex with virtually every guy in my class but i never paid her much attention really. some friendships were definitely injured beyond repair by this girl’s need to seduce everything in her path; i guess i’m lucky that sometimes isolation maybe even equates to some degree of self-respect. so, maybe she’s just offended i never expressed interest in trying to have sex with her. literally SCREAMING at me, i don’t know why, but people do act weird when they’re sexually frustrated, especially when they feel conflicted about who or what they want. or why.
it was extra weird because a friend of hers at the table that night started talking to me about getting married. girl B and i hooked up once a long time ago but the sex was mediocre at best and resulted in the irreconcilable ruin of a great relationship i was in at the time. the harlot would always come over to my house wasted on friday or saturday nights and claim to be too smashed to go home. i guess i was dumb, or maybe it was just that my girlfriend’s twin sister turned out to be the one i really loved, like some cruel twist of fate that made it game over before we ever really pressed ‘start.’
in my experience of living as man, it seems that relationships with women never pan out in a way that seems to make sense (or sometimes in a way that makes too much sense), even though everything is everything and everything happens for a reason (no reason). i struggle with finding the reason why i had to be born a boy. is it fucked up if i want to become a gay woman, or maybe one who likes boys about .0001% of the time (that may even be a generous approximation)? i feel like some people would say that just makes me a pervert or a creep or something.
thinking about sex gives me a headache but i have one friend, baxter, who i can always talk to about anything no matter how fucked up it is. he’s the only person i like to spend time with more than i like being alone. honestly, i’ve entertained the possibility quite a lot that i’m further gone off the deep end than i even know, and that maybe baxter is as much a figment of my imagination as everything else feels like sometimes. usually we meet all kinds of fucked up archetypal characters when we go out, almost like we’re living in a greek myth where he’s Zeus or Osiris or something and i’m Thanatos or potentially even Persephone. that being said, i guess it’s not really so weird after all that we wound up bumping into the harpies at the bar.
i’m so fuckin glad i found this website. sometimes no matter how honestly i express myself or how openly i wear my heart on my sleeve, i feel like everyone just wants to murder me for the level of freedom i have, thanks mostly to my newfound acceptance of total zeroism as the only lasting infinite truth. a guy I worked for a long time ago told me that infinite love is the only truth and i struggle a lot with the question of whether Love is real, or nothing is. maybe love is nothing. maybe everything is.
i bet some people would read this post and think call me a misogynist or accuse me of trying to slut-shame the girls in my story from before because i don’t respect the way they use their sex as a divisive mechanism. recently i called out some girl from town for making a creepy rape joke i didn’t like on facebook. she had posted a picture of some guy standing behind her holding her arms like a puppet and put the caption, “i’ll make her look like she likes it.” i wrote that it’s actually a woman’s own job to decide what she does and doesn’t like and that i didn’t appreciate how the overall statement could be interpreted to promote a culture of sexual violence. i guess that because i have a penis, no matter the level at which i experience gender dysphoria or the way i think, i really went out on a limb with my comment. various double-standards among the gender paradigm are endlessly mystifying to me. one of the girl’s friends responded that it’s none of my business what the first girl’s joke means and i need to stop “man-splaining,” which according to her is a violent way that men misinterpret the messages and intentions of women. the whole conversation kind of made me want to throw up, even just thinking about it now does too honestly….pretty sure i was actually just me-splainin’, but when i’m really sincere, i feel like i get the worst results. can’t even refer to the conversation anymore because the first girl blocked me, but i’m pretty sure the second girl was basically saying that because i’m not biologically female, it was wrong of me in that instance to speak out against rape culture if by doing so i would be condemning a woman’s own role in perpetuating the cycle of undermining the value of all womankind. but then again, maybe that’s just my tendency to “man-splain” making me think that. *barf*
read a great article on wikipedia that made me think a lot about who the hell i’m supposed to be. i recommend everyone ask themself that same question more often, every single day if possible. good luck out there everyone. if i die today, even though some people hate me for relentlessly telling the truth, my conscience is clear as spring rain and heart is lighter than anything. stay Real.