2/27/2019

So, my thought process is if I keep pushing myself to write something every chance I get, may something interesting will pop out my words. Right now with all this pressure in my ear, I simply can't think of anything else to talk about.

I literally feel like there is an elf in my ear blowing up balloons and shoving them behind my eardrum, and between my jaw, and also behind my eye. I'm not happy, and the ER found nothing. Now I'm, sitting here waiting for tomorrow, when i get to go see my regular doctor, who doesn't believe anything I say, and who will pass me off on yet another doctor.

Why are doctors so arrogant, when they know nothing. This man wouldn't know how to treat a broken barn door, because he would be too blinded by how big the side of the building is.

2/21/2019

In the grand scheem of things, today is nothing but a blip on the radar. 

However, that isn't so for me. I'm sure once the problem if fixed, today will take on a meaningless moment, eventually. but right now. Today sucks. 

My main computer is down. I just got the internet working on it. I just got the freedom of doing things I want. Now, my music is locked, and I'm stuck using a tinny tablet like laptop that strains my eyes to see. I won't lie, i feel like a fish out of water. 

Tomorrow, I will probably get up and stop sulking and learn to fall in love with this tablet thing as I did the big computer, at least until it goes to the doctor and gets fixed. Now I know, you might find me a bit moronic or crazy worrying over a computer like that, but you have to understand what this computer means to me. I am in my thirties, and I'm broke most the time. This computer was given to me by a friend so i would have a way to escape the fact I'm sick. 

I live in a gaming world, called Second Life. In the sim, Sanctuary. It is where I see my brother, he isn't my brother in Real Life, but he is my brother in the game. I've been visiting this world since I was in my late teens early twenties. Over twelve years ago. 

I've always been looked at as, different in my family. An out cast because I didn't understand certain things, and often said the wrong thing at the right time to piss everyone off. Moments that when you look back they are scorched in your brain, and it seemed like time didn't exist. I've come to understand these moments a little better, but there is something that has always alluded me, why did i have to work so hard to fit in, when I so clearly didn't. I was happier sitting at my laptop enjoying my game than running around getting passed around the family, for them to deal with the fat annoying mental girl. 

Their sarcasm wasn't supposed to hurt. Like when my aunt teasingly called me a garbage disposal because I had an unquenchable hunger inside, and my body was slowly killing me... She didn't know. So you have to forgive her. She didn't know you thyroid was under productive, or that the hyperactivity was being eaten away by the depression of my mind splitting into several different personifications of my self. 

They didn't know, i carried my guilt of how fat I was. They thought I didn't know they were all laughing at me, and talking behind my back. The fact of it is, I did know. The funny stories my brother cherishes of how he left me in the woods in a fort while him and my other brother ran off to play basket ball with their friends. It's not supposed to hurt, when I don't remember the way I bombed them all when they returned. It's not supposed to bother me that I wasn't able to remember, because they took their drugged sister, put her in a fort in a tree and left her. Alone, for hours. 

It's my fault we don't get along anymore. It's my fault I don't know how to talk to them, and can't connect. It's my fault... yet i'm the one who stayed. Sitting in that tree, just like I stayed sitting in my room where everyone wanted me. Because I was too much for anyone to handle. I had to be drugged on a daily just for them to deal with me, simply because the teachers said so. 

It didn't matter to my teachers I was being left alone, in my room all the time to play with my toys because no one wanted to play with me. Not even my brothers. 

What mattered most, what made it my fault the most, was I spoke up. I told about the monster at home, that was hurting my family. I was too drugged to feel the beatings, and I wasn't going to allow my family to keep living like that. 

------------------

I have a photo of myself in college. In this photo I was painted up like a man. I was studying face painting and one of the lessons was opposite gender day. We were supposed to wash or faces that day, but I for some reason couldn't. I didn't even think twice at the face in the mirror looking  back at me. I wonder, if I really loved the things I did, or if I only liked them because of what I was told I was supposed to like. My mind comes back to the one thing that I couldn't keep running from. 

I looked exactly like my brother, and I missed him so much. I worked hard to put him from my mind, the only person in my life that I really could stand. He was my middle brother, but he left. Rather than take his anger out on me, he left. I completely understood why he did, and given the choice, I'd probably had chosen to run with him. 

My mother gave our youngest brother away. I was the only girl, but he and I we genetically matched. Father, for father. Mother for Mother. He should have been my ride or die, but he wasn't. In our family, being the favorite didn't mean the best treated, it meant the one who didn't know the truth yet. I was the last on my step father's list of innocence to devour. 

My brother's played their part very well. I can't blame them for it, the things this man probably did to them. I don't even want to think... That's where my mind is left to wonder in the darkness of the night. I believed in the movies, and the way everyone would end with a happy ending. This one, it didn't have a happy start, and it doesn't get that much better. In fact, I die in the end. That's true for everyone, its when I die that is the question. The doctors give me sixteen, sixteen years left to die. If they are right, well, I guess you see how this story ends. pi

There are things I didn't like doing as a young girl, keeping my shirt on was one thing. The fact the boys were allowed to run around with out shirts and I wasn't was down right unfair. I didn't see a difference in who we were. We all had the same parts mostly. I cut my hair short, and I loved it. It was the happiest day of my life and I had to forget it, because my mother and grandmother cried for days, because I cut off my long blond hair. It was then I realized, it didn't matter how I felt. I'm a girl. 

Not just any kind of girl, I was the sunny bright happy costume loving, hyper, always dancing, singing, happy girl. I wanted to be just one of the guys, but that would never happen. Over the years I would find several reasons to hate my body, and myself. However, none as bad as that day I started hating myself for being a girl. I can't remember the day it started, but I remember the journey to it. It wasn't because I wasn't beautiful, it was because I wanted to be with my brothers, instead of alone in my room. But she's a girl.......... am I?

I have so many personifications to shift through, but none of them feel right. But there is that one, way back in the back of my mind, that feels like a gnawing creature sitting in a cage. 

I don't think I care if I'm a girl or a boy. The fact is I am both. I became a woman for my family, but the boy in me is still there too. But its ok, because I don't have to be afraid of that. I don't have to tell anyone, or maybe I do. I told my mate, i thought I might be a man, and shi shrugged her shoulders and said Ok. I am neither him or her, I am just me. I go by She, I like girly things, I like guy things. I don't quite know what the terms are for this, but I do know my sexuality is pansexual. Or something like that. I really don't care about someone's sex when it comes to attraction, I care more about their personality and who they are, than anything else. I am attracted to both male and females. The fact is, I'm ok with that. I know my family still won't be, but the fact of the matter is, I'm ok with that too. I've put my family though enough. They are finally happy, and I'm here sitting alone in my house with my mate and my pets. 

Tucked away like a little dark secret they never have to speak about, but then holidays come around. That's when they wanna unshelf me and show me off. So I get dressed up in their style of clothing. NO, no I love it mom. Buy some pink frilly little thing and go back into my kitten personification. I can't fully control who comes out at what time, but I can feel the change in personalities, Lily seems to favor my mate, I believe she yells at him because she likes him so much. Cyn hasn't shown up as much recently, but I've been here. Trying to work though the drama that is going on inside my mind at all times. I don't even know how many of us are in here, but I do know one thing, I can't cling to one sex, when there are at least six of us in here, and two of us are dudes. Hi. My name is Logan. My brother's name is Kouga. Man, I can't wait for you to meet Kouga. 

When I was younger, I wanted to be a boy to fit in. Now, I'm neither. I'm both. Either way, it doesn't matter. This is what keeps me company in the night, we are all together in one mind. Tucked away in our little house, dying, with the one person in the world I trust. Shi gets me. No matter what happens. Shi loves me. To hir, it doesn't matter what sex I am, as long as I'm happy. With hir, I am happy. Man or Woman doesn't matter to hir. Man or Woman Shi loves me. 

My tears to clean my ears...

Life is funny sometimes. Like when I stand in my kitchen and look at my cookie jar. I know they are freshly  baked several days ago and they are going to be hard as a rock with that pop that just makes your jaw scream, "What the Fuck woman why!" However the though of not eating that cookie eats at you till you shrug and take one, well ok two. wait they are small three. Its ok, its burnt... never mind i'll just take them all. I waited so long to eat them... Taking only one a day. The last few were on the brink of rotting out....

I give up and pore a bowl of cereal and take my cookies sitting back down at my desk. Because of who i am I live on a very strict diet. And this struggle is because, I who loves food, the way it taste and the way it melts in your mouth. When I take that cookie into my mouth dripping of that milk. The creamy flavor of the milk running over my pallet as the crunch gives way to dissolving in my mouth.

The burnt ones are my favorite, I am somewhat ashamed to say. The almost non eatable char and its bitter after taste. It reminds me of when my mom would bake us cookies and she would always forget about the last batch. When eating the cooking I can just about hear the sound of the fire alarm ringing in the back ground. If I don't eat the cookies they are going to go bad, it will be a long time before I let myself have cookies again, so why not? Just enjoy a little bit of naughtiness.

The wonderment of enjoying that sweet creamy mixture takes me back to moments that include my aunts, and their burnt cookies, and my friends, and my brother's with his doaghboy mittens and hat on Christmas eve trying to bake cookies for Santa. My fondest memories were of his passion and how much he loved to cook. I thought he would open a restaurant one day, but he never did.

The sinking feeling of a brother's dreams so destroyed at such a young age, it breaks my heart still this day. My mind snaps back to life as the sadness of my child hood catches up to me and i try to shake the dark thoughts from my mind.

Cookies, I take myself there to that dark spot over cookies. When I hadn't ate cookies in a long time. Then the reason I am so careful pops his ugly head up out the water and i'm hit with the pain of the sugar passing though my liver. It isn't long before I remember why i can't stray from my diet. One soda a day. One cookie a day. One piece of meat. One... One... One. . . I don't care what anyone thinks of me, the pain of not being able to fill your stomach with foods you love is over bearing and completely real.

Salads, the only thing I am allowed with out regret. Green leafy spurts of nothing that looks as plane as it taste. Sometimes we have toppings, but most the time they come in a bag premade, because i don't have the energy to get up and cut up my own salads. These salads are "fresh" and "healthy." and so full of "No Regret!...... yeah, until i think about that big juicy steak that I enjoyed with my uncle the one time he allowed me to eat his whole stake myself. He told me he was done with it, and well... I got excited and lets just say. It was just that good. I totally zoned out. I remember the way the juice ran down my throat. Still sizzling and hot. I remember the burn of the seasonings as they chard their way down my throat. The joy of it being strait off the grill was too much to wait for as i cut little nibbles here and there. Increasing in size as I moved along the steak and it cooled.

I couldn't stop myself, it was so tender, and mom wouldn't have ever let me eat it so rare. Oh i loved it. I'd never had a steak like it before and would never have one like it again. It was perfect. We don't talk anymore, and it wasn't because of that steak. Sometimes you just can't explain to people what's going on and why you are the way you are.

It takes time to process the thoughts that travel though my mind. My thoughts coming in faster than I can even keep up with most of the time. The channel changing so fast inside my mind its hard to focus. Each person, means a new personification of myself. Who takes over who runs me? I don't know, but can we all agree on one thing, we have to eat right. Even if it is killing us faster, because our teeth were hurting, Ya have to eat something, and you can't eat potatoes anymore, no you already used up the month's ration on that.

I fight with myself on is it worth eating or not, because I know how damaged my liver is. I also know I can't prove how this happened to me. I have been lost, trapped inside my own mind for so long, I don't know what to say. I remember everyone in my family asking me, begging me to tell my mom I was pretending to be sick... Now I have documentation of what happened to me, why I am... It doesn't matter. I don't have the heart to tell them how bad they made me feel, while this whole time, I've been dying and they..... I have a clog behind my ear now, I'm used to getting ear infections, they hurt and it still makes me cry. Its good to cry, it washes out the clog, I hope. My ear still feels like a balloon is stuck in it, but oh well. Good try.

That's about when my pup comes to rescue me from my thoughts. Startling me as she barks at the chime of the cat clock on my game. Oh, yeah that's right I was playing a game. Isn't it funny how funny life is? I missed a good Role Play, writing out my thoughts now everyone is heading to bed. I told you life was funny.

Now enjoy ya smile,
Wipe away those tears,
I'll see you soon.