I spoke with someone about my feelings.
And now I feel horribly sick to my stomach.
This person shared with me some honest, factual information. Though I sincerely appreciated their words and their time to speak with me, most of the things this person pointed out I was already aware of…I was conscious of the existence of others who are of a different breed of individual as I am. It is difficult to live a life that is of this paradigm group. The feelings I have could be only fleeting, and they have been…after I’ve pleasured myself…which I only do to rid myself of the discomfort that irks me when I least need it. I know I am introspective and sometimes take that to the extreme; I am aiming to be a writer of some capacity, so I take what I can get.
Being much too nervous to blurt out all of me, I held back a considerable amount of vocabulary I thought I wanted to use, and wound up focusing on just my “effeminate nature.” That was not everything of me. That was the casual surface of my being.
I know who I am, but knowing isn’t everything. Realizing them is something completely different. If someone does not use the proper vocabulary, an incorrect and faulty impression is instantly cultivated. That is what happened to me. In essence, I wasted twenty minutes of her time.
I suddenly feel like crying.
This is ridiculous.
I have been aware for many years now that I have delved considerably deep into the ocean of my existence in order to understand nearly every aspect that makes up who I am.
I did this without fear; I NEEDED to know the multiple facets of myself so that when I [creatively] composed, I could express myself in multiple fashions. In order to become the well-rounded writer I believe I am, this was a requirement of myself.
I did this without regret; I had nothing to lose, and it was a thrilling experience to uncover the crevaces of my heart and soul. I have been different from everyone that I know in my family…and becoming more separated from who they were, enabled me to further push myself into a domain where none of them would ever reach me; they would have no idea how in the world I arrived. Since they rarely acknowledged me on their own accord (or I just never thought to involve them), I would have no qualms. Only those who have taken the time to understand me as me would come to know of my secrets.
I did this because I felt a calling. In the creative writing circle I involved myself in, many of them considered it to be a speciality that I had somehow obtained. It was a seamless entity that they had not pursued. I became widely known for this…but only I could see the bottom of the hole I had dug. Before I knew it, the foundation beneath my feet had disentigrated, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed the ride, for it was not one of fear, or regret, but it was a place where I belonged. I had transgressed to a place no one around me had ever dared to explore…
…and I loved and reveled openly in the individual that was forming. I had changed for the better. Or maybe, it was always available to me; I just need to be affirmed of there being more than simply the surface that so many people pine on, rely on, and become satiated living in. I could no longer stand the falsified, society-driven self that I could clearly see that everyone else had willingly succumbed to. For years, I believed no one would understand me. I broke away from the ones I considered best friends – I had no choice, as they were older and engaging in activities I did not find righteous – and followed a different path.
However, I am beginning to believe that the pursuit of myself has brought me to a place where I could almost despise the body I live in. I desire more from it. Yes, it is a sexually-geared affliction – I do not like that the overwhelming majority of my self says it is, which I would attest this to my bothersome sex drive – but there are assets that agree with that sexually-geared affliction. And I don’t mind it. If anything, it would make me more me than I care to admit. This was the case prior to me dealing with the necessity of reading required texts that have only – I think – opened my eyes to the normal actions and desires that I exude almost unconsciously every day. I look back on my past, and I see signs of it there as well. Not just in the people I hang out with, but the feelings and thoughts underlying being with them. For crying out loud, I now worry about being in the same room with the same/opposite sex because I don’t want someone to think that anything is going on between us. Even worse, for that person to think that something is going to happen between us. I could give a shit about what people think of me or think about me, but I could do without having immature questions posed to me about the virgin who has never had a true relationship with anyone before. And let’s not forget the need to reaffirm my sexual identity by successfully admitting my preferences to my housemates who occasionally quiz me.
Yeah. Fucking beautiful, right?
My favorite song right now is: Coldplay – Fix You. I have it playing right now on repeat..My second favorite song right now is: Coldplay – Till Kingdom Come.
I don’t want to pay for a psychiatrist. I thought “that person” was neutral…
No matter what I, Ren’Ai, wants to do, there is always some boundary I have to follow because of our inbred societial standards of what is “right” and what is “normal” forces me to. Without a doubt, I remember feeling socially obligated to do so as far back as elementary school, but more prominently around 8th grade…and I still am, but when I try to, I feel awkward…like I am forcing myself to conform to the innate definition of what is “normal” interaction. It just doesn’t work for me. It has always (I can honestly use this term) been something like a trap for me, but the obligation is real. Ironically, it took required course reading for me to look past my feminine attributes and realize my self; to realize that it is so much more than the label of “femininity” that I am now seeing in a whole new light.
A black-light, that is.
I want to stop thinking about this…shake it off…kill it dead…but something tells me…as long as the existence of this discomfort is with me, I will constantly be reminded.
There is no time to cry; I’ll only think more.
There is no time to be scared; I have a certain role to play – the honesty in that statement melds with the pain and love for it – later today.
There is no time to question; I have a paper to write.
When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse
Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.
– lyrics from Coldplay – Fix You