I don’t really smile anymore.
I forget what day of the week it is, and I forget to even care about it.
What the hell am I doing with my life?
Would you call this living?
I hate wearing clothing, for it never fits right.
Breasts get in the way and I am uncomfortable in my own skin.
What if I’m wrong?
What if I’m right and I stay miserable all my life?
These are questions one has to ask when they decide to change the way they look dramatically.
Some would say I’m selfish, or that I need help.
Psychotic and need to be put on medication.
But don’t you realize?
The voice in my head sounds nothing like the one you hear.
My perception of myself is so enormously divergent of my outward appearance it’s frightening to look at myself naked in the mirror.
Sometimes I feel like I want to rip my skin off or throw up to make the sick feeling go away.
But my family doesn’t see that.
My family doesn’t feel these things.
They can’t, for they’re too different.
I’m a freak in a freak show…
How the fuck did that turn out?
My friends cant feel this way, at least the ones who don’t have the same feeling.
I was going to let it go, you know?
Maybe I could work around this and still be “daughter”?
But there comes a time in every man’s life when he sits down and looks at it… REALLY looks at what he’s doing with himself.
It didn’t occur to me to see the reality of my situation until it was necessary to do so.
The fact of the matter is: I’m not living.
I’m drowning in myself.
Hesitating to even breath.
I’m so scared I’m going to mess up.
I’m so scared that if I go through with this that there will be nothing left of me.
That the me now wont be there anymore if I change everything.
But is this living?
No, not it’s not.
This is death.
This is dying.
This is what hell feels like.
Hell is being stuck inside your rotting, ageing corpse staring at all life around you but unable to participate in it.
There is so much I could offer the world.
So much I want to share.
There are stories that should be told,
Characters that must be played.
Characters that only I, who has been stuck in between it all, can play.
And what am I doing about it?
Will god still love me if I do this?