Thursday, April 14, 2011

Trying to fit in when I don't want to fit in

Even when it is accidental.
I hate myself for fitting in to the normal world. I look like I do. On the outside Aunna and I are husband and wife. The whole world doesn't know she is transgender. Since she looks male, we must be straight. Since we have a kid we must be starting to live the dream. Who's dream?
So am I making myself odd just to not fit in? To fit in with the freaks? Of course how I dress is a choice, but is how I act entirely my choice? I'm to shy to function sometimes. Or am I just making myself shy? I don't think it's a choice. I try really hard to make friends, to join conversations, and when I had a job...I tried to make friends at work so it would be easier to want to go to work.
But I didn't make friends. I would spend my breaks alone (and at this job the department I worked in all of us took our breaks at the same time) It wasn't from a lack of trying...I'm happy with the friends I do have. But still...the many times I got sick so I couldn't go to work...was it in my head or was it my body's defense? I do fake sick so I can avoid Aunna's family functions. I can't be around her whole family. Lately I have been honestly getting I tricking my body or is my body understanding that I can't go to that party so it gives me a reason to stay home?
How is it that I can go to concerts with hundreds of strangers and feel fine? Is it because I get something out of it? I get something out of work, I get a pay check. Then why can't I get myself to keep a job?
I want to function normally.

Sometimes I feel that the person I am is fake and that I feel like a copy. These feelings and my experiences matches everyone else around me. I feel like that is why I cannot talk honestly about my feelings. I'm just another one of those depressed girls...or god forbid, another one of those Emilie Autumn fans. I didn't choose depression, I can tell you that. I do try to be happy but telling myself to be happy doesn't really work like that. I wish it did.
I didn't choose to be sexually abused. No one chooses that.
I don't think I chooses to be so awkward but maybe it is a learned behavior. How do I unlearn it? Can I unlearn it? Trying isn't working any more.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Dream Songs

These songs I need to preform some day in my life, in front of a crowed.
I don't sing well, and I have horrible stage fright. I get shaky talking in front of a class.

  • Rose Tint My World -RHPS
  • Dream On -Arrowsmith
  • Defying Gravity -Wicked
  • Liar -Emilie Autumn
  • Fireword -Katy Perry

Saturday, April 2, 2011


This crave to be skinny is disappointing. I'm not this. I'm all about body acceptance, fat acceptance, curves, and being healthy.
I want to be healthy skinny.
No that is bullshit, I just want to be skinny. I used to be and then I had a kid and I cannot seem to shed this weight, the fat, the curves. Everyone tells me "oh you are so pretty, you are so sexy...blah blah blah." body is not for you, it's for me. I want to be skinny, very fucking skinny. I'm at the point where I don't care how I get there. Now do I have the tolerance to abuse myself like that? We'll see. We can hope I won't be stupid enough to abuse my body for perfection.
I'll just continue hating my body, wishing I could shed my skin like a snake. But that's a stupid thought...snakes shed their skin when they get bigger. If I am going to shed like a snake I'm going to get bigger.
I haven't eaten all day and my stomach is growling and feels empty. If I close my eyes I feel small, but I look down and I see the rolls, I need how my fat pushes out, how my dress lays over it.
If I could look how I feel I think I would feel better.
This is not a cry for compliments, which I know no one is going to believe me. I call myself a model and I will post photos of me, must mean I like my body and it is skinny.
Nope. It's not skinny. Remind me to post a photo of my body...
I model and post photos as a way to help me love my body. I want to love my body but I can't yet.

When I cannot sleep

Falling apart
make new art.
I fear all of me will freeze soon.
Can't sleep.
Small deaths.
Keep me alive.
My thoughts will go first then they will take my insanity.
Is it already gone? Am I human at last?
Can't see but my mind is wide open. Can't hear but I feel the screaming. Won't talk because my lungs are screaming. Will never die, my life fuels the fire. If my hands fall off will they believe my tongue?
The pieces are cracking is happiness glue?
I will smile until it works even if it splits me open.
I'm trying.
When I wake this will all be scribbles.