Better left unsaid


Art by yukichasoba

My previous entry was something I should have chronicled in my physical diary, not here. I was frustrated, in a lot of emotional pain, and experiencing a deep sense of rejection with a single particular matter that I had blown completely out of proportion. My policy is to never have regrets when writing here – so the entry will not be removed. I do, however, apologize for anyone who may have found it childish or pretentious in any way.

As for my life as of late…it has not been very pleasant. Not terrible, but certainly not pleasant. Continue reading

Find me within sweet lies


To have a lingering pang in your heart. A sadness that gradually wraps and chokes your very soul. An intense sense that the dam may break any moment – or all at once, sometimes. Perhaps I have discovered the truth of a woman’s tears. It all became so easy. Too easy…

Love-gaze. You know, that magical moment you read about in romance novels and see in sappy chick flicks. The few who believe “love at first sight” exists never seems to experience it when we listen to their epic tale of meeting their significant other. It is those who disengage from searching that encounter this legendary moment. When the world blurs, and all we see is their complete and utter perfection, personified.

And then we proceed to lose our minds.

We think about them the moment we wake. We question every action related to getting their attention. We give and give and give for just a fraction of what we pray we can receive in return. We hang on every compliment or kind gesture they give to us only to find out those priceless words we treasured are doled out to others for free. Self-worth crashes and burns.

Pretend not to care. Pretend not to see. Pretend that the questions & scenarios we ponder are ultimately futile. Those who have forgotten how to cry wander in confusion, wondering why love-gaze ever happened. Why their stomach won’t stop clenching. Why they ever believed taking action would change anything.

Giving up is easy when the odds seem stacked against us. We become desperate and seek the approval of those who’s words have weight. Our friends offer encouraging words and nothing more – we can only help ourselves anyway.

So we cry on the inside because crying on the outside hurts too much. We hold it in, clench our teeth, and smile through the frustrations and heartache of bearing the unknown. Maybe we do have a chance to achieve some manner of self-completion if only we hang on for just a little longer. Plugging the dam with the shred of faith we can muster.

“You deserve better,” they say.

“You will be appreciated & loved one day,” they say.

“You are beautiful,” they say

And we thank them, having long since committed those very thoughts to memory as if our life depended on it. Remembering we must love ourselves, today, more than yesterday.

Just like a real girl


Pixiv @ 49742968

You treat me so sweetly, though I’ve yet to share my secret. Do you already know? I don’t aim to hide what is true, but I wonder…if you trust me to be who I am.

We talk, and my voice drops under the pressure of laughter. Do you hear the shadow of the person I was once expected to be? Those trained, sometimes strained upper octave vibrations that I use so well to confirm my honest-to-goodness soul dispel your doubts that I belong among the bras and emphatic gabbing.

Can I ever truly belong? Sitting in the comfort of your room, too nervous to even take a glance around, I focus on engaging you. Desperately convincing you that these visual cues you see are, in fact, feminine. Never quite strong. Never too weak.

Posing in the mirror, naked, my body has yet to adhere to what my brain has deemed correct. That torso, wider than it should be. A medically-induced puberty padded with uncertainty, hope, and disappointment. Those abs, a sign of my avid dedication to maintain good form – possibly self-sabotage. My dysphoria reminding me of my broad, enigmatic features – a beauty who dreams of reaffirmation by someone not their reflection.

I’m just a girl trying to be. Living with a past that denies me, and I them. Proving to your eyes, that my body is not a lie.

I am real.