I’m afraid of so much.
Of myself. Of the people I live with who are supposed to be family. Of the fact that I may never fully become the person I believe I can be. Not just in life and work, but in my own being.
I’m afraid of failing to live a full, happy life.
Yet, here I am trying to not be so fearful of speaking up at home. Of saying “hello” even if someone doesn’t say it back. Just saying what it is I need to say when I need to say it.
I’m frustrated in so many ways. Yet I fight against it. I struggle to simply live the way I must because it’s the only thing that doesn’t turn my soul inside-out. Living like I’ve always lived. Trying to feel like I’ve always felt. Not knowing what it is that I’m seeking or desiring other than my own success and a reason to keep going in this life.
I don’t think I’m depressed. I don’t think I’m angry. I do think I am a mess. I do think I am in pain. I do think that there is a reason that after a day’s work, trying to find a sense of balance and meaning, believing that what I’m doing will create a path for me in what little time I have left, I have fallen into despair. Consistently. Unable to pinpoint why it is happening and, all the while, holding back. Never sharing them. Keeping my feelings and tumultuous thoughts at bay so no one would have to pity me.
This is what happens when I let myself go. When I ignore everything else I want to do and simply write. This is the state that comes when I let my thoughts flow, until they stop. Whenever they stop.
I don’t want people to feel bad for me or give me sympathy. That is why I don’t ever let myself do this. Or if I do, I write in a separate diary. I probably should have done that this time, but it doesn’t matter either way.
I wish I knew what was right for me. Somewhere in between sounds just about right, but how can anyone live somewhere in between? How can anyone half-ass anything in life if they want to truly live? Though being “queer” makes sense – it always has and there’s always been that sense of ambiguity in my gender state – I can’t accept being sometimes one identity and sometimes the other.
And so, I should accept neither. I should identify as neither male nor female. Yet again, how does one live such a life? I don’t know, and I don’t know anyone who has. In some ways, I don’t want to because that may confuse me even more. The same reason why I am resisting going to a support group lies in this flawed logic of mine.
I’m afraid of what I am and that I’ll never be able to walk right in my own being. I’m afraid of being wrong because of all things to be wrong about, this is the one thing I can never take back. How can one be wrong about their own identity?
I wish I knew. I wish this didn’t have to be so hard. I…
…I need to cry so much right now. And I don’t know how to…