I know it has been a long time since I posted anything to this blog. I am sorry about that. My drive to write, be it for myself here or professionally has been virtually non-existent for a long time.
On rare occasions, like now, I feel the need to get wordy, but I always hold back, mainly because I still don’t see what people see in all this.
Still, stretching my typographical skills while expressing myself is always fun. To a point.
I am thinking about killing myself. In all honesty, I have been thinking about this for months. Why? Because I will never be who I want to be.
This is a topic I have danced around for years, but never directly addressed here. I am not sure why. I guess I just wanted to keep this part of myself to myself.
I am transgender. I was born male, but identify as a woman. I want to physically and socially transition, but certain things, such as a lack of funds, prevents me from doing so.
This disconnect, this raw horror is what drives my desire to transition. I never wanted to be male, to have the social “responsibility” of being “the man” thrust upon me. I cannot stand this life anymore.
Can you understand the horror of waking up everyday knowing your body is not right, that when you look in the mirror you see a face that is only familiar by repetition of viewing rather than familiar of ownership?
Can you understand grief I feel when I take my clothes off to shower and instead of a smooth area there is a lump of flesh and a hanging sack? Can you imagine the betrayal of your face as it grows hair?
Can you understand it? More than an intellectual understanding, now. Can you understand it emotionally? Can you place yourself in my position and imagine what it would be like to have a body that feels so wrong to you you cannot fathom continuing to draw breath?
I would rather die than continue to live a lie. And that is all this life really is. A lie to make others comfortable. To make sure they’re not creeped out by something they cannot, or will not, acknowledge: that everyone’s gender identity doesn’t match what their eyes see.
Frankly, I am tired of living for everyone else. So I want to die for me. I want to die so I can be free of this maddeningly insensitive world and its near impossible rules it imposes on us without so much as a backwards glance.
My preferred gender pronouns are she/her. My preferred name is Alexis. My friends are onboard with all that and willing to alter their speech patterns when I give the word.
Anyone who refuses to respect my gender pronouns and chosen name, for any reason, isn’t really my friend and can fucking die in a fire.