confession, depressed, free write, freedom of speech, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Conversations

A conversation with two cisgender heterosexual women. Well the girl I asked out has a boyfriend. She could’ve said that a long ass time ago. Anyway, the two of them were talking to me. And I have had my horizons widened. In their eyes it seems like trans men aren’t real men and trans women aren’t real women. I know they weren’t trying to hurt my feelings but it didn’t feel nice to hear people who I viewed as my friends talk in that way. Honesty however is the best policy. No matter how it feels. 

Here are some of the highlights of the conversation-

  • “I’d rather be with a woman that’s a woman than a man that was a woman. If that’s the case I’d rather just be with a real man. Y’know?
  • I know you’re a girl now and all but if you weren’t born that way don’t try and come across as if you were. (Talking about our coworker who is an mtf transgender woman)
  • You want the sex change? Like you want a ding a ling? Uh uh.

It’s probably just me but. I wouldn’t say any of this to a transgender person. Even if I wasn’t trans I wouldn’t. Then you offer to take me to get my name changed, yay thank you that’s great- then two seconds later oh nevermind I don’t want your mom to get upset. 

I’m sorry what? I’m a legal adult what the hell does my mother have to do with this? Take the bus you say? The bus doesn’t even go that far. Take a lyft or something? Don’t you think I would if I could? 

Sigh.. I just

I thought I finally found people who actually accept me.

But based off what just came out their mouths.. Whatever. Obviously I’m just still too naive. 

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confession, depressed, free write, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, Uncategorized

Maturity

I did something stupid and immature today (yesterday now). I sent a stupid message in an important chat. I’m not even sure why I sent it. But afterwards I spent a period of time reflecting on my actions today and well over time in general. I’ve come to the conclusion that in the past 7 years I basically haven’t matured at all. I’ve had my moments but I’m a complete wreck. It’s not a good feeling to realize you’re about as mature as the average 12 year old when you’re almost 20. How can I pinpoint the age of 12? Because I spent the majority of the last two days with my 12 year old cousin and sadly it was the best time I’ve had in weeks. I don’t know if maturity is gained on purpose or through experience or you just act differently over time but I haven’t reached where I need to be. But I’m attempting. So I apologized to the person I sent the immature message to. In my eyes, a mature person isn’t afraid to admit when they were wrong and apologize for it, and I was wrong so I did. Although I’ve been working towards bettering myself I’ve realized I’ve only been working on my outward appearance, muscles, acne etc. But the me on the inside needs work too. Sure I’m likable (I think) but that can only go so far. I need to be reliable, trustworthy and also mature. I don’t know why it took me this long to get to this point mentally but I do know I need to change. 
I’ve decided I’m not going to delete any posts I make on here ever. They will be the record of my growth and I can go back and see how far I’ve come, or how far I need to go. All I really want is to end up happy. Not rich, not poor, not a huge family with 8 kids and 4 spouses that are mainly divorced. I want one marriage and a happy life. But I can’t get to that point if I can’t even get to the mental point of a normal adult.

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depressed, LGBTQ, short story, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Shirts

So I’ve started working out again. I forgot how much that makes even not moving hurt. But this time I’m serious about working out. My job is really all about speed so my legs are gonna be great no matter what. But I can’t just have Captain America legs and pre-spider Peter Parker upper body. So I’ve gotta balance myself out or something. Also exercise seems to I guess keep my chemicals in check and I’m slightly happier on days I actually have. 

So I decided to take some photos so I could compare later on or make a slideshow type thing so I could actually see if I’m making any type of improvements to my body or if it’s all in my head. But then after editing the pictures so they didn’t have any type of chest showing I realized I look horribly unattractive with my shirt off. 

So I’ve decided that every day I’m gonna set three 20 minute timers 

20 minutes of push ups

20 minutes of sit ups

20 minutes of the horse stance

I know that I’m not going to be able to last doing any of those things for 20 minutes non stop right away. But those are my goals. If I work hard every day eventually I’ll be able to do each one for 20 minutes every day. Maybe that’ll be the day I’ll be comfortable enough to look in the mirror with my shirt off and be like yes, I did that. With my hard work I gave myself a body I could be proud of. 

Because as Tang Tian says, “Sweat doesn’t lie.” 

So I will sweat, and I will persistently perspire until I reach the point where I have enough confidence to.. Do stuff. 

I know this might be my most straightforward post so far so let me get my usual ramble in. It’s really hard to look someone in the eye when you’re constantly thinking that they’re thinking damn that persons ugly while they look at you. Because most of the time that’s what I think to my reflection. Except on those few good days where I’m like maybe I’m not so bad? 

I’m really sore. But I’m glad I’m sore, because that means I’m trying. 

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Deadbeat Dad, depressed, free write, letter to, LGBTQ, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Foolish

What the fuck was I thinking. Bury me? My family can’t even afford a single pair of name brand shoes. Where the hell is the money for my funeral coming from. I’ll probably just end up rotting in a morgue. Naked on a cold metal slab in a drawer. Why do I even exist? What did I do in my past life that was so fucking bad I had to come to this one. A mother who would rather treat me like shit than acknowledge that I’m human too, a brother who’s just a fucking idiot. A father who is basically a sperm doner that sends memes.  Sigh 

Maybe this life won’t be a waste. Maybe just maybe it’ll get better. I’ve tried everything else. I guess I’ll attempt to be an optimist now. I’ll probably fail miserably- oh look I already am. Fuck whatever. I’m going to sleep.

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confession, Deadbeat Dad, depressed, free write, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, love, short story, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Jumper

‘Hm.. That’s a strange shadow. Sorta looks like a person.’

I look on top the building, and see a girl standing on the edge. She looks upset. I might as well go up and check it out.

The door isn’t locked. I climb up 8 flights of stairs. I’m breathing kinda hard by the time I reach the top. The door to the roof is clearly marked so I go through it. The door creaks and the girl turns around. 

“DON’T! DONT COME ANY CLOSER!” She yells at me. 

I furrow my brow. “Why not? Whether I go over there or not has no impact on if you jump. Does it?”

She frowns. I walk over to the ledge and sit down about two feet from her. 

“Why are you here?” She asks.

“I was walking by. Felt like coming to see what you were doing. There’s a pretty good view of the city from here.”

She considers kicking me. I can see it on her face. I look back at the skyline of the city. 

“Are you gonna try and talk me down?”

“Do you want to be talked down?” I respond. I still don’t look at her. 

Out the corner of my eye I see droplets falling over the edge. Either it’s raining, or she’s crying. Probably crying. I still don’t look at her. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

I glance at her. Shes looking at me and has tear stains going down her cheeks.I reach in my pocket and hand her a tissue I grabbed on the off chance I’d need it in a Wendy’s earlier. 

“Have a seat. All that standing probably made you tired.”

She sits down wiping her face not even realizing she stopped standing on the edge. 

“Can I ask you something?” She says. I nod and look at the cars driving in the distance. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I look at her. I really look at her. The curve of her jaw, the shape of the arch of her eyebrows, the color of her blue-green eyes and the will to live that’s gone out of them. Her salmon colored lips and dark orange hair. The splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose on her slightly tanned skin. She’s pretty. She’s not gonna stop traffic but I like the way she looks. 

She waits as I study her. And the longer I look the more she starts to fidget. When she breaks eye contact I look back at the cars.

“What does my opinion matter to you. I’m a stranger. For all you know, I could be gay.” 

Based on the look on her face I can tell she was not expecting that answer. 

“Are you gay?”

I shake my head. “Then do you think I’m pretty?” She asks again. 

I make direct eye contact. “I think you’re pretty. I think you’re really pretty. Personally you’re my ideal woman. If in looks only. But looks aren’t everything. Were you on the edge because someone called you ugly?”

She’s beet red. “No. I’m not that petty. I was on the edge because I’m alone. My family is dead, my friends don’t ever want to hang out with me and my last boyfriend killed himself.” 

I look at her again. She looks at me. 

“That’s why you want to die?”

She looks down. “I don’t want to die. I just don’t know, if I want to live.”

I realize I’m sweating. And then I realize that some of what I thought was her blushing was also flushing from the heat. 

“Do you wanna go get a smoothie or something? Its pretty hot up here.” 

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. I look at her calmly and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. She keeps looking at me. I break eye contact but I can still feel her staring. “Okay.. Maybe it was a bad idea.”

She comes closer to me. She puts one hand on my shoulder and holds my chin with the other. She tilts my head this way and that then sits back to look at me some more. 

“…are you transgender?”

Okay. Obviously I wasn’t passing as well as I thought. But I nod. She stands up and extends a hand toward me. “I’m buying” she says. 

I’m very, very confused right now. What the hell just happened? I follow behind her. I’m about three inches taller than her. I take this chance to.. Take in her figure. It’s not a bad one. I don’t look for more than two seconds. I’m not a creep I swear. 

We get to the first floor and go out. About two blocks away is a smoothie shop. We walk the two blocks in silence stealing glances at each other when we think the other isn’t looking. I got pretty quiet after I realized I wasn’t passing as well. Keeping my head sort of down and not looking at strangers. Not talking. 

“Are you okay?” She asks me outside the smoothie shop. I open the door for her and nod while shrugging. Like ‘yeah of course’.
We order smoothies. Hers is pink and mine is a sort of light purple. She pays literally slapping my hand away when I tried. The cashier got a kick out of that and then we sat in a corner booth.

“Whats your name?” I ask. She looks at me with a crooked grin. 

“Only took you forever to ask. You can call me Angel.” She says.

I feel like that’s not her name but nod. “Jason.” I say and reach out my hand to shake hers. She scoffs and sips her smoothie leaving me there awkwardly with an outstretched hand. I look down and sip my smoothie with that hand now under the table. I feel her staring at me again. But this time I don’t mind as much. I look up and defiantly stare back. She scoots over to my side of the bench. I sip my smoothie again and pretend to ignore her. She reaches her hand under the bottom of my shirt. I feel my heartbeat quicken because I don’t know what she’s going to do. 

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confession, depressed, free write, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

(Untitled)

I don’t know how to explain it. On the outside I guess you can tell I’m not happy. I’m usually not smiling, and when I am it doesn’t last long. I’m so sick of people including me in their prejudices. All I want is to be left alone and happy. If you can’t leave me alone, then at least have the decency to call me by the correct name, or pronouns. I don’t go out of my way to impose my beliefs on people or try to force them to see things my way. For the most part I mind my own business. Sure I have opinions, I have a ton of them. But does that mean I’m gonna take the time to bring them up and try to make you see things my way? Nope. Because I don’t care what you think. You could be flat out wrong and I probably still wouldn’t correct you. If you wanted to be corrected, you’d do some research. You could be imposing your beliefs onto me. I’ll probably ignore you. But if I don’t ignore you, and our beliefs contradict, I’ll listen to your point of view, form my own opinion and continue to keep it to myself, unless you ask me. But if you come and just decide you’re gonna be a jerk and harass me or constantly mess with me or ignore the one thing I ask which is call me by the correct words, then we have a problem. Then I’ll tell you off. Then I’ll get mad. Not necessarily in that order. Because it takes a lot, to make me even aggravated much less mad. Most of my friends can’t ever say they’ve seen me mad, or if they have it was less than twice. I try to be good tempered. I keep to myself to the point people think I’m shy. I’m not shy, if I don’t talk to you it’s because I have absolutely nothing to say to you. I don’t know you and probably have no interest in starting to. Doesn’t make me “shy”. 

I’m probably clinically depressed, and if I was only surrounded by people who accepted me and made me happy I seriously doubt that would be the case. But you can’t choose your family, and you can’t choose your circumstances. So here I am, constantly unhappy, but too unsatisfied with the way I’d die to kill myself. If I were to die today I’d want to be cremated and scattered because I don’t want a tombstone that’s gonna have the wrong name on it. Or the wrong words under that name.  Hopefully, by the time I do die I’ll die happy. Instead of the way I am now. Constantly in a state of “meh” wishing for things to be different. Making efforts to change things and then more things happen pushing me back or making it so everything stays the same. Other people, would’ve offed themselves by now if they were me. I’ve considered it many times. Committed to it at other times and then not done it because I found no reason death would be any better. They say everything happens for a reason. What was my reason? Why am I here? Was I truly born just to live and die unhappily? What did I do in my past lives or who did I piss off for this? I’m only 19 but I feel like I’ve lived 19 years too long.

I don’t want to. But it’s so hard to ignore it all.

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depressed, free write, freedom of speech, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, love, poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Unrequited

Why am I able to feel feelings for you, in this way, when no matter what I do, you’ll never love me back?

If I could control my emotions, I’d take my heart off my sleeve and put it in a lock box three feet under the sandbox. Nobody ever gets that far trying to dig to China, so it should be safe there.  

I view you as perfect, amazing, everything I’ve ever wanted and more. 

I know you’re not perfect, and in many ways not amazing. But that doesn’t matter. Because

My emotions act as a filter. I’m always thinking with either my heart or my head. I can never think with both, but I can contrast the two.. If I tell you how I feel, what would it change? I know nothing would change. I settle for the way things are now, but I’m not happy with them. 
I’m always here, and you always come back to me. For support, or a shoulder to cry on, or simply as a pair of arms to comfort you. But somehow.. When I need the same you’re not there. But that’s okay. I’ll continue to be there for you. Patiently, unfairly waiting for the day you notice I’ve been here all along. Living by your site. Loving you, and your flaws openly. But none of that matters to you, and it doesn’t matter now. Because you just got your heart broken again.. And came back to me for a hug.

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