queerbychoice | Feelings

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Current Music: the sound of myself listening

Feelings

*closes eyes*

Okay. I think life is planning to become less hellish now. That would be nice.

I just want to be able to take off people's spiny shells and get them to let me hug them. I want deep true human connections instead of all this flailing of spines. And that's what almost everybody else in the world claims to want too, but then when you actually touch them they nearly all leap up screaming in terror and try to kill you for it.

Tell me something. Tell me something that you're hardly ever brave enough to tell people. Tell me the thing that's hardest of all for you to tell people. My journal is always open to anonymous comments if you ever want to make use of them. It doesn't matter whether I know who you are or not; I just want to know that there are human beings out there in the world instead of only spiny shells. Tell me something that makes me know beyond a doubt that a human being with intense feelings sat down at a keyboard somewhere on the other end of the internet connection and . . . felt things, and wrote them down for me.

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I used to hear voices. Not random voices but people I knew. Only a very few, though. For example, I used to hear

lostdoll9, and my friend Olivia. This occurred about two or three years apart, mostly because I lost touch with Olivia. I liked it. It was souldeep conversation. I talked to them too. But it takes a certain kind of mindset to be able to converse like that. At 14 all I knew was that I had to be very relaxed and calm, and it wasn't hard. Now it is, and I appreciate it more. I haven't had a mental conversation with someone else in a long time--probably about a year. I miss it. I'm afraid to reach out with my mind to find other people around here. Nobody ever talks about it, not even the people with whom I talk and that scares me because maybe I'm making it up and don't even realize it. That terrifies me. Am I crazy in a bad way, or special, or does everyone have this ability but they repress it?
Am I broken?

I used to have long conversations with people in my head every single day, but actually believing that they could hear me and were really saying those things via telepathy just caused bad things to happen. This was when I was twelve to fourteen, and there was this boy, see, and he neversaid a single word to me in real life but through my bedroom walls when I faced the direction that his house was in he professed his everlasting devotion every night. But trying to get him to repeat similar emotions face to face definitely did not work.

So, I still have long conversation with people in my head, but I've given up believing that they can actually hear me.

My conversations don't involve emotions, usually...just random deep thoughts and meaningful conversation.
Maybe believing in them is bad, but it fills me.

I'm watching the curser blink and can think of a million things to say, but either can't or don't want to say them.

I'm amazed at this post, and how easily I could trust if I just let myself.

Once a coworker mentioned in passing that I don't let anyone in. I'm from the classic "it's safer that way" school of thought.

I feel. But have been taught that my feelings are invalid. The negative ones in particular. Although the positive ones are not exempt.

Is "I blame my mother" a cliche yet?

Is replying more than once to this post an option?

Yes. It's definitely an option.

Ok.

I have a lot of difficulty saying loving things to people. Even things like "I'm glad you're feeling better" are awkward for me. Sometimes I think I alienate people, so I've started making an effort to express feelings more. But every time I try to say something like that, it comes out horribly awkward and static, like it's a piece of bad dialogue I overheard in some god awful chick flick movie at a slumber party when I was a kid. So I don't know what to do. Keep my mouth shut and feel like an uncaring block of wood, or open it and feel like a chump.

I'm also tired of all this spine waving that goes on.

Saying such things can get easier with practice. Also, though, sometimes just doing wordless nice things for people helps express it.

I don't grieve easily; it takes me about a year to really react and stop believing that I can let losses and large emotional experiences pass with only objective observation. I have, however, in the past year or so learned how to cry without feeling weak or in some way wrong for needing to, and I have, for friends and family members who have died, and for this war, and 9/11, and for some kid hit by a car on the local news ... but I still don't trust others to handle that side of me, or to understand that it's not really a sadness to be made go away, or to not use it to challenge the idea of my strength. The last one, really, is my biggest hidden soft spot ... vulnerability is often deeply scary to me.

I think it takes extremely great strength to grieve, actually. To let yourself fully feel that loss, to stare your grief in the face and not run away and try to hide from it.

It is very hard for me to say "I love you" to people. Even if I love them muchly. My girlfriend is the only exception to that. I can hardly even mumble, "I love you" to my parents. The words feel too powerful to be spoken.

I can say it to all my friends, but with family members, yeah: it does feel too powerful for me to dare touch.

To my friends? Oh no. NOnononononono. I cannot. Oh no.

Ack!!

Only to my gf.

I used to not be able to say it to my friends, but that was because they were the wrong friends. I got rid of all of them eventually . . . drifted away in that peaceable way that's only possible when people don't really love each other.

When things happen to me or around me that I can't quite deal with, I disconnect from them and start to see them as something that could not have happened, that never did happen, that was only a dream. There's actually a few things from when I was younger where I honestly don't know if they really happened.

Was she never there?
Was she ever?
Was it air she breathed?
At the wrong time

All the flowers so
From the gallery
With the hymns of night
Singing come to me

At the wrong time
On the wrong day
All the lights are fading now
If I'm dreaming all my life

Just one living chance
When the mother sighs
When the father steps aside
At the wrong time

Was she ever there?
Was she ever?
Was it air she breathed?

At the wrong time
On the wrong day
All the lights are fading now
If I'm dreaming all my life
If I'm dreaming all my life

Was she ever?
Was she ever here?
If I'm dreaming all my life
If I'm dreaming all my life away

Dreaming my life . . .

—David Bowie, "If I'm Dreaming My Life"

I cant remember anything of my life that happened before I was 12.

And I have no idea why.

weas

Absolutely nothing whatsoever?

If that were the case with me, I'd feel a desperate need to know. I'd question everyone continually about it.

nothing, I guess its more appropriate to say I dont remember anything until age 8. People have told me things that happened and I have no idea what theyre talking about.

Great question by the way. Nice to know that everyone is still human -- somehow

I really have problems completing things to the best of my ability. I set myself up for failure.

So if you're really consistent about this, perhaps I should expect your gender transition will stop at the same place Leslie Feinberg's did . . . ?

I was commenting more academically and/or from a work perspective. In terms of transition, this has been the best thing that ever happened to me and from a hedonisitic standpoint, if a little's good, a lot is better. I simply can't follow through on projects that other people expect me to do -- reports, lectures, and the like. I don't know why this is. But I don't anticipate my transition "stopping" anywhere; besides, I don't view it (transition) as a teleological process.

(deleted comment)

What was the appointment for, and how did it help to be out of the house?

(deleted comment)

Well, personally, I think I would prefer to be at home during a terrorist attack. Or at least not not be getting my private parts poked at by strangers. That's hard enough on my nerves as it is when I'm not already utterly panicked over something else entirely.

This is an incredibly powerful to request for me to do. I don't have time now, but may attend to this feat later. It may seem odd, because when somebody asks me about myself, I answer. With offhand calmness I'll divulge extremely personal things and desires, the reasons for who and what I am, but nobody has ever really, really known about me. Period. I lock my feelings in a shell that I myself cannot break. At the rare, and I mean RARE, moments when my mind is cleared and there isn't a violent torrent of things going on in my head, something odd happens. When I close my eyes I feel things that aren't happening to me, physically. Pounding, throbbing, falling, burning, pushing, and when my eyes open the feeling instantly disappears without even a moment of disorientation. I don't know what this means.

Perhaps later, I'll see if I can possibly see past my own shell without killing the creature inside.

Yes, I hope you will. I would like to hear it.

Right now I have a sudden urge to dance to the Pixies. Alec Eiffel to be specific.

Every day I awake I am bitter I woke up as me. I want to wake up as someone new every day with a different body to get the full experience of life, instead of the static one sided view I get now.

Every passing minute, passing second, I feel myself age and feeling a conflict in my mind about time and somehow running out of it. When I was around 20, I vowed to myself I'd be where I wanted to be by 25 or I'd kill myself. I'm only a year and a half away from that invisable deadline.

I know that feeling very well, though I was afraid to ever put a definite year upon it because I knew if I did and the year arrived I *would* die, internally at least, and I didn't want to do that to myself.

Weirdly, I find that the high school goals I *have* managed to accomplish are actually the ones that seemed most ridiculously outlandish and impossibly unrealistic to me at the time, whereas the ones that I meant more seriously and actually believed I had a halfway realistic hope of accomplishing are the ones I'm still not anywhere near achieving yet.

I anthropomorphized EVERYTHING as a child. I couldn't let go of stuff, not because I wanted to hoard things, but I was afraid of hurting the stuff's feelings, or giving it away to people who wouldn't take proper care of it. I still do it to some extent- I can't give away books, art, or stuffed animals to anyone who I don't trust very much. I cut out every doodle I make in my notebooks because I can't throw them away, they're people to me.

I'm always terrified that really deep down inside I'm a selfish, horrible human being who doesn't truly care about anybody. My mother always used to tell me I was. I never got over it. I cry very easily when I even think of the concept of family. Not because I hate my family or anything but because I care so deeply about them and everything hurts when I think about them. I took a goddamn survey about coming out to parents and I wanted to cry. I'm that broken.

I always need to touch people. I only feel comfortable touching a few people so I cling to them all the time.

Sometimes there are moments when everything in life seems to 'click' and I get this wonderful tingling sensation in my scalp. Sometimes it travels down my whole body. I try to do things that reward me with that tingling sensation. It's like my God. Every once in a while I'll tell someone about it, and they'll say they have it too. But most of the time if I tell someone they don't get what I'm talking about.

I think you're pretty. You're very fragile, but not in a helpless maiden kind of way... more in a nervous-shy boy sort of way. You were an outsider before you became one of the only vocal "queer by choice" people and thus put yourself into the margins of both straight and queer society. That's just how you do things. And when people hurt you, it's not just that they're mean, it's that people are mean and you don't understand why. I can tell why you like Depeche Mode. I think you're a lot like me, only that you base a lot more of your actions and ideas on principles than I do. It amkes you more politically oriented, a little more vocal, and a little more rigid. I think getting very close to you would feel, for me, like hugging Comma, who's more bones than fat. But I'm working on becoming fatter and fatter, metaphorically at least, which helps.

i'm afraid to say that i don't know how to be in a relationship. i don't think that i know how to give to another person, and i have pretty much no idea how to come onto somebody, even if i really wanted to.

i'm scared that because the few sexual experiences i've had haven't turned out the way that i've wanted them to, that i will always freak out when getting intimate with someone. (that's the joke that's not funny, but we laugh anyway) thinking like that really sucks, so i try not to worry about it too much, though.

i could go on, but i'll stop now. :-)

I can't speak for everyone of course, but in my own personal experience, sex gets *much* better in later experiences and the trauma of the early bad ones does indeed fade away. :)

i would tell you secrets but i'm paranoid about putting anything that personal on the internet, even in an anonymous comment

i know the feeling, but perhaps you could deliberately insert a bunch of spelling and grammar and punctuation mistakes and adopt the jargon of a vastly different social group and thoroughly disguise yourself . . . ? i mean, there are some 170 people reading my journal and that's a considerably large crowd to diguise yourself in. i can entirely honestly say that i have no idea whatsoever who you are.

I used to think I was going mad. I was paranoid-delusional when I was a teen (as in, everyone can read my mind and is out to get me) and no one knew.

My first post in your journal and it's a bit off kilter :)

Hee, with a beginning like that I shall expect great things from you!

I like to think I'm a little more balanced now *L* I ogt much better when I severed my ties to the people in my life at the time and discovered friends who made me feel like more of a person, not less. I love the people in my life right now... they are my family.

you have very elegant thoughts.

I've been in an excellent relationship for the last 16 months or so. However, somehow I still love the most beautiful, tragic creature that I've ever encountered nearly three years ago now and cannot shake him from my mind...I have not seen him well over a year now, and with all likelihood never will again, but he felt like something I had been seeking, something incredibly rare that so few people will find, someone who is like them on their deepest, most base levels, for better or for worse...the story is far more long and convulated, perhaps disturbing, but overall sad and perhaps most wrenchingly, incomplete. I desire a resolution, but it will not come, the time for such has long since passed. I just wish the rest of me would realize it and would allow such things to heal, but I can't seem to move past this and have somewhat resigned myself to it. It just tends to get in the way with relationships, acts as a sort of unattainable ideal for those I love now, that they cannot match by virtue of my Muse's existence.

When I was around 12 I used to call those dating chat lines (which are free for women) and have phone sex with random men. I have no idea why I did it, and I don't even recall even liking it all that much most of the time. I think at that point in my life I had a real need to be wanted in some kind of a participatory way, because that wasn't a need that was being fulfilled anywhere else in my life. I have memories of staying up all night talking to these men. Mind you, I already had a deep mature voice and none of them knew I was underage. I remember just talking to them, too, and making up all these things about this imaginary person I was playing that they thought was real.

And then one night I was having phone sex with this man and he introduced a child into the scenario. Like, a little girl. Not, like, a real girl, but it was all part of his fantasy. And I remember hanging up and being so completely sickened, and having this horrible moral dilemma because I knew I should report him to the police (because who knows if he was really doing stuff like this) but I knew if I did my mom would find out what I'd been doing. So I just stopped calling and tried to forget about it.

Speaking of which, I forget a lot of stuff. And it's not the kind of stuff most people forget--it seems pretty common for people to forget really catstrophic terrible events in their lives that they don't want to relive. For me, it's little stuff. For example, I only remember the bare bones of what I did last fall. Or last spring. I can remember all of the really important things, that everyone else will talk about with me, but the daily happy things that would be nice to recall tend to just slip through my fingers.

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Feelings

forgive me father for i have sinned, it has been about two years since my last confession.

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a song for you

random

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incompleteness

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Re: i am the most fucked up suburbian girl you will ever meet

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here I am

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