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posting this because i have a tendency to delete old journal entries when i 'get past that moment,' and therefore can't look back on it for reference when a moment similar arises. it occured to me today i have no idea what i'm doing... i had a chance to explain to someone who really did seem nice and not a conservative lemming, just what i was doing/thinking when i chopped my hair off. instead, i lied. i realised in that moment that i can cut it all i want, wear bigger clothes because clothes that fit show my fat girl-hips and other feminine body things, and i can buy secret items that will arrive in unmarked packages so i can piss standing up, and it won't make a difference.
i'm still a god damned girl.
anyway, this was like a 102 WPM rush of words in LJ. i want it somewhere where i know at least one person cares (as opposed to LJ which has just been strange lately, and i have to be careful as i've a cousin on my list and etc), and where i don't have the power to delete it at will. i don't want to fall into hating myself again. i will always hate myself, but i mean hate myself to the point of being awful, like yesterday i drew my own blood because i was bored and wanted to practise. i forgot that yeah, i have to push the tube onto the other end of the needle, and i went through the vein. didn't hurt, but when i pulled the needle back out, more blood was coming through than the needle could stop, so when it came out the blood came running, pooled up about the diameter of a quarter then began to spill. i was terrified, nauseated, and then ... intrigued. it didn't hurt and for a few seconds, nothing else did either.
but i'm too old for teenaged self-injury crap, aren't i? i'm also too old to have an eating disorder, and neither solve the fact i have the wrong chromosomes, they just distract. so you know.
props if anyone's read this far; you needn't read further, i just need this in a spot where it won't get lost. paste-pieces:
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yeah so i got my hair fixed today and was very sad. i think the woman cutting it should've been a gay man; she used her hands to talk just as much as cut and she said things like, "why would you cut it like this if you wanted it like that, that's terrible!" and i mumbled some lame excuse about a bad history with hairdye, and how impossible it's been to re-grow my own hair out from beneath this constant rust-red-brown shit color i've had. yeah, i lied to her because it's not normal to be transgendered.
(edit note: was that so very stereotypical of me to say? probably. but i love gay men more than other men or girls or gay girls or oxygen so.)
**
i look so ugly. i swear i have this thing in me that wakes up whenever i start to look remotely decent, and says, "oh oh, you silly thing you need to look like a creature again. stop that, stop thinking you could almost pass for something almost pretty." and then i do things like CHOP OFF ALL MY HAIR even though it ALWAYS ends up that i regret doing it--yet i think "this time will be different," or binge eat or pick at my face so that there's cut-nail-scab marks, or i perform bloodraws on myself or or or.
yesterday, during the fiasco with spider-man boy***, i had commented that it was a shame he'd be locked up in the back of a baker college security truck for five years, because he was awfully cute. hayley says, 'go talk to him and make him feel better!' and i was like 'wtf no?' she says, 'you're way too shy, or introverted or SOMETHING, you talk about being lonely like it's a joke, but i bet this is WHY.'
*** ref: this kid was hyped up on some drug, had to be, or else he was just amazingly strong for his size, and also bored. he climbed a tree and started busting off branches the thickness of my arm, like they were twigs. security drove by in the parkinglot at random, spotted him, went after him. he jumps from the tree, bolts across the courtyard, and lauched himself up the side of the building wall, like barely even put his foot on a window ledge and up onto the roof he went, taunting security for 20 minutes before one thought to climb up the other side of the roof and sneak up on him. amazingly beautiful boy. maybe he was bored.
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
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...But what I really wanted to say is (and yeah, this does sound like stupid platetudes, but I always try to say what I really mean to people I care about), that while you may have the body of a girl, it's just A BODY.
The "you", the thing that IS you, lives inside it, and the body is really no more than a vessel, a shell to contain us. Those that think themselves so pretty and attractive (and you know what kind of people I mean, I'm sure) are usually no deeper THAN that shell. I and many others know there's so much more to you than just hair and hips and girly bits and all that. Heck, even supermodels tend to be dissatisfied with the way they look... Nobody's perfect, we're just meant to THINK that. 
Besides, I think your body is pretty! I really do! You're cute, and you know I think your neck is hot in that choker/necklace thingy, and I'm totally sure short hair suits you really well. So don't beat yourself up so bad, coz you're worth better than that. (Yeah, I know this again sounds like platetudes, but I really mean it. Totally, I promise!)
On a side note... Bluuuud can be fascinating in a weird kind of way. I tend to have a permanent case of the sniffles, so basically any time I blow my nose I run a (rather small) risk of getting a nose bleed. It's scary, but I always tell myself not to freak if it doesn't seem to want to stop (which it usually does pretty much immediately). I also chopped myself across the first finger joint of my index finger with a wood carving knife when I was in fourth grade while we were on a hike in school. I bled like a stuck pig, but didn't panic, I was really calm on the inside. My first reaction was to go for the bandage I had in my backpack (whilst holding my other hand cupped under the finger to catch the bluuuud for some silly reason). I didn't find it, and then the teacher came rushing up to me to bandage my finger, hehe. No more hiking for me that day. 
I still have the scar... Oh, and btw, did they get him?
Warm tight hugs for you:
-L
"But he that hath the steerage of my course,
direct my sail."
-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act One, Scene IV
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On fire! |
Location: currently So Cal
Registered: May 2002
Messages: 1179
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There really isn't anything you can do that will make you into a boy. Not even an operation and hormones will accomplish that. You are a girl. But that is not to say that you can't do things that will make you feel better. If cutting you hair makes you FEEL more like a boy, then cut your hair. If buying fake genitalia so you can pee standing up makes you FEEL more like a boy, then buy it and wear it. Do what you need to do to make yourself feel better.
What you choose to tell others is what you choose. If you want to tell someone why you cut your hair, tell them. If not, it's none of their business anyways.
You are a wonderful person. You're kind and sensitive and loving. Treat yourself that way. You are right about the teenage self-injury crap. It doesn't become you. You deserve to be happy and have everything you want. You may never get it all, but who does? But that shouldn't prevent you from reaching out and grabbing some of whatever it is that makes you happy.
{{{HUGS}}}
Think good thoughts,
e
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thanks, lenny.
they did get him; the guy that snuck up on him on the roof (security) snagged him, and then they got him down. the cops got there like 2 minutes later, walked up, stared, shook their heads and then left. the kid SEEMED to be on something, real coked up, but maybe he was just caffeinated, because had he been on something i'm sure the cops would've taken him in if they suspected.
he was held IN the security van for like 20 minutes (we were all late getting back to class because of watching--this was during break) and then they just let him go. it was really bizzare.
he looked like daniel johns of silverchair.
anyways ... thanks for your post. i know it's just a body and i always tell myself that, sometimes almost violently so; the problem is that it's what everyone sees first, and while i might be able to pass around people who never have seen me prior to all of these things, up close they'd know for certain, and then the labels would begin to fly, and and and.
ah well. with the work i'm going into, i wouldn't have time for a relationship anyway... :-/
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
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-- and in my defense i'll at least say it wasn't intended to be self-injury intentions. sometimes i DO practise blood draws on myself, because if i can feel what it FEELS like to hit the vein (since mine aren't visible in my arms) then i assume that'd make it easier on others. plus, there's no way to intentionally make the blood spurt and pool that way; sometimes only a tiny drop will appear, much of it depends on the tourniquet, and the fact i totally pierced through the vein factors in.
it had only occured to me in that moment, when i was staring at it trying to figure out what to DO (one handed, no less), that hey, this must be why people do it. it's distracting, you don't think about the other things you can't change, but this is in your control.
that's the mindset that birthed the eating disorder, anyway, and while i'm out of the thickets and swamp-holes and burrows of that, i'm not out of the woods yet, either.
thanks for your kind words,
-l.
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
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I was tempted to ask, "did they get him?"... 
