you are recommended to read the header of the first Binary page, for context on this section

i have already expressed the things currently here - they have been formed, & can be deleted, but not unformed, so i intend to humor the act of archiving them here. but it is my hope that this year i might be able to vanquish these feelings - or at least proactively silence them. i feel that there is a hypothetically
endless supply of these kinds of sentiments for me to express from time to time, & perhaps nothing to be gained from doing so. they tend to amount only to worrisome cries of terror. i am coming to feel like giving them such a voice amounts to giving them greater footing in reality. i need to tend only toward detached dissections of the feelings, observing them from outside

the objective is the closure of this colosseum of a webpage where you may come to watch me tear myself apart!


december 31st, 2021
drunk on new year's eve


i'll never care about actual physical comfort because: fantastical physical comfort, with its
fantastical scenario & companion, reinforces a fantastical condition where i am not male, while
real physical comfort, with its reality, reinforces the condition that i am. whimper whimpser!


january 1st, 2022
& crossing midnight


i am A DOLL: 1. incapable of valuing my own body (the distinction between me & the doll is its lack of cognition vs. my flaw of
cognition (or rational cognition in the face of bodily flaw?)); 2. while capable of having my presence be EXTERNALLY valued - i
feel inherently ruined & the definition of relief to me feels like a fundamental reformatting - that, by my present standards,
i will NEVER stop being fundamentally ruined - but i may become something very demented - accustomed to my
ruination - accepting of being MALE, which i do not want to be... male OR accepting of it

if my life feels dislocated then no relief may come because it is within the LIFE which is the CONTAINER of
all experiences which could conceivably constitute RELIEF - these experiences are NULLIFIED on account
of playing out within the TAINTED CONTAINER - whimper whimper. i am typing this while
drunk. someone wants me to be happy & my condition is a disgrace to their want


someone who just can't can't can't accept that it can be ok this way - someone who wants to beg beg beg for the
mistake to be fixed - even thought it never will - someone who wants to beg beg beg to be taken as a female
beg beg begging dumbly for the dumb weird mistake to be fixed rather than a male beg beg begging to be
different - ALTHOUGH THE LATTER IS IN FACT WHAT I AM. i want people on the internet to know this


things are ok, i can hop & dance around & make a silly joke about a sparrow flying by. things have to be
ok if i can do that. it is an imperative that things be ok so as to honor the sweet simplicity of it. it has
to be granted an impervious quality. it cannot be the case that i retain those sweetly simple physical
capacities & simply include them under the purview of a ruination. (okay? please? please?)


as i approach my sexuality, so too do i approach my biological sex - the latter is fundamentally an act of harm against myself, so
the former must be as well. i must devalue my sexuality & forget my capacity to be a sexual being - for to MAXIMALLY
value it would practically be like an immediate reasoning for suicide. i feel i am perhaps cursed & barred from a
full human life (if it is to be defined in that respect) but there is still a life for me to live


it hurts forever & no one ever comes along to at least explain why it should hurt you so much


if they touch me then the purity of their love for me is contaminated by the ruination of my being an undesiredly
sexed being so i can never be purely properly loved OK OVERSHARING LOL but all love is rerouted to pain


january 2nd, 2022


i wish i did not have to structure my whole life around hiding from my own body. it is imperative that i keep my existence
to the first-person. life is a minefield of reminders that cause my whole system of meaning to collapse, until absurdly it
manages to reconstruct itself. once i re-forget, i guess. it is so taxing to navigate life as a psychological minefield.
i don't feel like there is anything i can do to make it different. i just have to maintain my blissful
ignorance of my body for as great a proportion of my lifespan as i can

presently, i am trying so hard to reel myself in & at least engage with the structure of tearful goodbyes, because it
would be such an awkward, sour note to go out on: saying farewells in apathetic catatonia, having succumbed
to a notion that all projects in my life reduce to an effort to simply distract myself from my body

i don't know why i have to associate sexual dimorphism with helpless ruination. when i am reminded too severely, it is like...
i really truly lose the capacity to care about anything, because my life, as a container of all events i experience, feels tainted.
i'm willing to believe that i am smart & funny & kind. i would just like to be those things in a body that doesn't make
me feel so bad. i just have to distract myself from the feeling of my life, as a container, being itself tainted

i want to care. i can skip & dance around & tell a joke. i can't handle the thought of those capacities falling under
the purview of the ruination. it's unthinkable. it's the aspect i absolutely can't accept, it's a mental boundary i can't
cross, i cannot rationalize it, it is what keeps me digging at the notion that there has to be some way out,
even if there isn't. i just need to skip & dance in periods in which i have successfully re-forgotten.
i cannot see a photo of myself. i cannot see someone who i want to look like

everything is just either so very fine or so very bleak, these
two being wholly irreconcilable, that the bleakness must
entail some fundamental distortion of perception




i took this purposefully unflattering photo of myself, as part of a conversation about
my possibly having body dysmorphic disorder that causes me to have delusions
in the way i see myself - they say the delusions are glaringly obvious

the particular purpose of the photo was to illustrate that i don't think it's delusional - that it
is possible that i have dysmorphic disorder, but my pain is rooted in my interpretation
of, my reaction to, what is an incontrovertibly real array of attributes

which is to say: i do not want my body to have produced a bunch of testosterone for a long period
of my life, but it did, & now i have to see that reflected in the array of attributes that it produced

so i sent this photo & asked whether it looked like my body had produced a bunch of estrogen or a bunch of testosterone for
a long period of my life, & i was told that it is a legitimately androgynous photo, that if the person i was talking to didn't know
my situation, they would not be able to call it. they would lean towards "a relatively androgynous, early-puberty teenage girl"

i am incapable of believing this. when i look at the photo, it is enormously, enormously obvious to me. there are some majorly
at-odds realities in contact here. it's in such great conflict with my personal reality that it suggests to me three possibilities:

-

1. i actually am delusional. their comment has gotten me really considering this. the degree
to which i consider it is proportional to the degree that i let myself believe the comment

2. they are fibbing to comfort me even though they specifically elaborated that they're not

3. they are being earnest, but it has become common for people to overthink & dissect these hormonally-differentiated tendencies of appearance,
until they lose all perspective, & think everyone just looks like whatever, even though the various effects of these hormones early in life do
tend to just be really obvious in most people, despite how much anyone might want to pretend, in the interest of relief, that they're not

-

i made a tumblr post serving as an open invitation for anyone to suggest which of these three possibilities seems like it might be true

i feel like people are too nice - nice to the degree of deluding me. i feel like if i just posted this in some dark
seedy place online i'd receive a brutal degree of honesty... the bigoted & biologically essentialist comments
would not be true, but there would be an implied honesty about how i am visually taken

the type of spitting honesty from some normal jerkwad on a sidewalk. i want honesty more than i want pampering
kindness. i want to know if some dumb un-gender-woke person would infer my "pronouns" from
presentation (bad), or assumption (good). i feel like no one will offer me this perspective


LP: You sound really hard on yourself :( the hair makes me think you're female presenting, i suppose, but for a candid facetious shot you look like a normal, cute person imo. Take care of yourself and happy belated new years

R: Wow, you writing about the interpretation of a real array of attributes really hit me, as someone who is also dysphoric for different but adjacent reasons :/ thank you for posting this, seriously

LE: honestly im female at birth and i look similarly androgynous Especially from that angle i take after my father w the chin and nose combo .. to be completely honest if i throught you looked masculine i would say that (i also think masculine looking women rule) but you look really nice and read as a girl in my book :)

SN: oh same. to me u look relatively androgynous but skewing feminine in that picture, but i fully confess that i've been trans too long not to intuitively pay more attention to presentation than the sort of strictly physical attributes you're referring to

T: I know a couple cis girls who look like you do in that photo so I thought "this person has had their features influenced by a bunch of estrogen". i think context and memory really influences perception a great deal. You know those auditory illusions where a sound sounds unintelligible until you're told what it's meant to be saying, but once you are told your brain essentially hallucinates to fill in the gaps and it's difficult to unhear the words? I think there's a similar situation with most perception, except that there are many different possible ways to hallucinate our perceptions and interpretations down into one basin or another - it's not just a single sentence that can be heard within the sound. These basins of hallucinated meaning are sometimes roughly shared and communicable, but are always ultimately unique and defined by our personal mind's built-in tendencies plus previous experiences. (Likewise, they can change over time and in response to learning-like activities just as any part of one's brain can.) So, on the basis of me reading your features as estrogenic, but having seen your posts on the matter before, iirc...that's not the case? (Sorry if I got it wrong here though) I think that the person you interacted with was likely interacting in earnest, and not delusional, and that your perception is also not delusional, but that you have your whole history of experiences looking at yourself and reading features onto your face that you fill in the gaps differently. This is probably both because 1) you genuinely have more information; you know what it would look like if you, say, stretched your neck out slightly, and how it would change or accentuate your features (I just have this photo) 2) you have spent a long time focusing on features that you find unappealing; this extended focus likely draws your brain towards identifying them in the first place. Again, though, this does not doom you to remaining in these perceptual basins, as brains can be rewired and their dynamics altered. Sometimes without even an equivalent extended amount of time - just with the right learning activity or brain-chemistry change. This is all my best guess, and I'm saying it with the understanding that this might not at all seem reasonable to you for whatever reason, and that ultimately it's up to you to find out if these insights actually apply in your situation, which I know not too much about! But I hope they're at least interesting to you! :) and fwiw, seeing your edit on honesty: like I said I do know a couple cis women who look sort of like you, and one who looks almost EXACTLY like you, and maybe because of that I read you as feminine. i am sorry if you'd rather look masc tho..and looking back through a couple of your posts I'm realizing I might have been projecting and have no idea what your agab/hormone situation is. so, I am hoping I don't make you feel worse by saying so, but since you wanted honesty, you look feminine to me.

SE: i've constantly interpreted your appearance and features as androgynous, if not slightly feminine, in the time i've been following you


january 10th, 2022


would prefer not to be male, proceeds to scrutinize body for male traits & ironically develop appearance-obsessed
behavioral characteristics one tentatively regards as being foisted more intensively on people who are female by
conventional cultural systems... clears cobwebs from head & finds self pretty again, but considers fearfully that
i am just humoring what is functionally my head's act of playing "good cop," thus leading me to neglect
my responsibility to abolish the binary of visual self-dis/approval in myself entirely


january 14th, 2022


to feel like one "looks like oneself"

it is probably being exceedingly rare for anyone to really feel like they "look like themselves" from the get-go, with how varied
people are, & how little control they have about it... i imagine everyone having to "grow into" whatever intensely random appearance
they land with. it is a mistake to look at anyone & perceive an intrinsic "unity" between their mind & body, as if they're not "stuck"
to some extent, & making do with that. maybe i have failed to follow the standard course of "growing into" myself

but then, this all presupposes some concretized self that is present from the moment one is born, & then their body
can be evaluated in terms of its adherence to that self... when, in fact, that self can be conditioned by many many
things, many of those things themselves potentially stemming from the person's appearance in some way

& then one has to take into account the lack of objective meaning for any bodily trait & how vague "meanings" become
painted onto those traits, & an uncountable number of other aspects of life, with a very great degree of granularity


february 1st, 2022


"literally all of my memories are informed by my body, even the ones i like. no matter what i do, even if it is maximally
productive with respect to patching up my feelings about my body, i can't remove all the memories. they are tainted.
& the memories i form of taking productive steps about my body will obviously be informed by my body
too. my only recourse is reincarnation potentially being real" < thoughts i don't have anymore

my greatest fear i suppose would be e.g. being held by a person & the bodily convictions seem to be present & spoil
the moment, creating a sense that such a thing should only happen if something isn't so wrong with the circumstance.
that love would not be safeguarded against its encroachment, in fact would be open to it precisely on account of its
importance... based on some experiences with pal, i am not as confident that this fear is baseless as i would like to be


february 10th, 2022


apparently there have been experiments where people's brains are scanned as they are shown the color blue fading from light
to dark, & activity unique to Russian speakers was found, this being a consequence of their categorical distinction of light
& dark blue as "different colors." which sends my head toward the importance of categories, the notion that a category
established at an inopportune point in one's head can do a lot, then to a whole society extensively oriented around
pantomiming made-up sexual divisions, & finally you end up at my probable body dysmorphia

but then, at the root of it all, there is still a provably un-delusional sexual binary for everything to
reduce to. so, while i can insist to myself that i may be delusional in some ways & that things are
(way) more ok than i realize, i can never insist or suggest to myself that everything is totally ok


february 19th, 2022


i can tell that i still don't have a proper unity inside me with respect to my conception of gender, because i'm still
afraid that there is a man, the real me, lurking behind my "mask," so in the moments of actual freedom, when i let go
of all gendered pretenses & regress to the actual, undivided me inside, when i forget everything & only feel the
baseline of perception common to everyone, i might fear that i am actually just regressing to that man


february 24th, 2022


i will be perfectly frank here: it is a very common notion that a person can have a uniform disinterest in sleeping
with people who have a certain type of reproductive anatomy. right? well, building from that notion: is it not
inconceivable that a person could have, in a vacuum, a disinterest in that kind of intimacy when experienced from
the perspective of the anatomy that they happen to have, this necessarily implying a total, universal disinterest in it?

i am incapable of that kind of intimacy in any form that doesn't feel, on some very fundamental level, like
an enormous compromise. there is nothing that i can do about it. as with everyone, the happenstance
of my biological qualities never had any regard for the consciousness that that biology
would produce, consciousness which can easily deviate from the qualities

i do not overvalue that kind of intimacy, so i do not find this life-ruining or anything. there is very very much else
to life. but i feel i do not have much room to discover my normal level of valuation, either. i am compelled to
undervalue it, because the degree to which i value it is the degree of pain i feel. the painful acknowledgment
is that it is something you can, potentially, build a lot of meaning on top of, with time. but i do not think
this is an aspect of life on which i will have the opportunity to build anything. i cannot let it represent
love because that would implicitly burden me with a materially hindered capacity to love


february 28th, 2022


i try to keep a light in my eyes & i often do a good job at it but i still can't get mildly behind on sleep without immediately
remembering the permanence of biological sex & becoming inconsolably horrified enough that i can only do everything i can
to shut off my emotions & walk around like a dead body. all taboos around gender nonconformity & gender expression are
pathetic afterthoughts, burdens long long gone, & i am very confident about myself, but this feels exactly the same
still. when i started interacting with transgender people i thought i would primarily find other people who grasp
this feeling but i started with the most mainstream channels of finding them & consequently found only the same
kinds of insufferable ingroup signalers that are endemic to normative spaces. because i made the mistake
of assuming a flawless comorbidity between my condition & anything actually radical

there is nothing new to say about it, as per usual. i just have a
mental illness & it doesn't seem like i am going to stop having it

this one condition on which i am obstinately staking the notion that a missing piece would be put in place & i would
be perhaps capable of unabashedly loving myself, while knowing that it is a fundamentally unattainable condition

i've never felt that it really makes any sense but it is still very very real
for me regardless, & i wish more than anything that i could resolve it


- at this point, something happens to Neocities which causes any change i make to a page to display immediately for others, but with a
delay of about twenty-five minutes for me. this breaks my established workflow & forces me to abandoned the "centered paragaphs" formatting -


march 3rd, 2022


had a short dream where my cheetah pattern blanket was wrapped around my head & i was wordlessly screaming really hard over how if a person is capable of getting erections then it introduces into a range of postures of closeness to others the constant risk of a forced externalization of the idea of sexual arousal thus entirely denying access to any sort of more strictly platonic or pure-feeling experiences of affection where, even if a person starts to have those kinds of physiological responses, they are permitted to keep it wholly to themselves & not make it an external reality of the situation


march 4th, 2022


purgatorial bad thoughts. nothing productive to be said about them, as always.
oh well. just waiting. ok, here are the un-productive things to be said:

what sucks is that the periods where i think these thoughts also come with the awareness that they are literally just
objectively correct thoughts, whose truth indefinitely persists. so, although there are plenty of periods of relief where
i do not think them, the periods where i do think them also come with the awareness that the periods of relief
are just periods where i am not especially thinking them, not periods where anything is actually different

it is like processing a death or something like that, where there is no reasoning to be done in the way of dispelling a
subjective thing as much as there is just an objective thing to stare in the face & make sense of staring it in the face

there is an analogy to be made between missing a lost loved one & feeling their absence often, versus this
sense of endlessly grieving the self i am convinced i would have been if i had not been shoved into
a body that feels so inappropriate, had not been made a sexed being without my consultation

i am questioning myself on whether, when i enjoy things about life, if beneath that
surface level enjoyment i am not just uniformly taking them as mere compensation
for that central, near-unforgivable wrong that i feel was done to me
& which i always seem to return to obsession with

these are extensively, extensively, extensively life-defining thought patterns

what's funny is that maybe you, the reader, don't have this problem, & maybe, in reading this, you experience a kind of respect or
sympathy for my having to reckon with the issue. & maybe you don't think i am tarnished or anything. but that is only because you
have no choice but to process only the me who objectively exists for you, who visibly grapples with this real condition, producing
a "struggle" in which you might "root for me." you have no inclination to idealize an alternate configuration of me the way i
do, so you think this is all "valid." you are separated from the subjective side of it that i experience, where i utterly feel like a
bastardization of myself & i see no respect, sympathy, or dignity to at least be claimed in dealing with these thoughts. i only
see them as yet more evidence of this reality that shouldn't be as it is, & you reading & comprehending these words is
more evidence still. i don't want to prevail over the thoughts, i want to prevail over the reality, & i can't


march 11th, 2022


i feel as though i solicit people on the internet to benevolently gaslight me into thinking my face has an androgynous or even
estrogen-&-not-testosterone-influenced appearance instead of just trying to fully internalize the unsexed quality of my mind
& personality & make peace with my helpless condition of being an arbitrarily constructed biological thing. i use unwieldy
medical sorts of terms like "testosterone-influenced" because no one has come up with any new words yet to replace the
conservative & prescriptive terms of "feminine" & "masculine" when nonetheless describing the extremely apparent general
binary divisions in physical appearance that make themselves absolutely known when one is just walking down a crowded
street instead of staring in a mirror trying to overanalyze & deconstruct it & going blind from overexposure


march 14th, 2022


it is very very prudent that i figure out what i need to do to become able to navigate life without the voices of like half the people on the planet carrying the risk of placing me teetering on the edge of irreconcilable despair about the sexually dimorphic quality of voices, i.e. walking down a street & hearing something as overwhelmingly common as the voice of a person whose vocal tract was identifiably not affected by their body having at some point produced substantial quantities of testosterone, & consequently having an ephemeral mental breakdown over the non-negotiable permanence of those effects on my vocal tract

obviously this does not happen with overwhelming consistency, but the feeling is liable to strike upon any exposure without rhyme or reason. there is an element of reassurance in how thoroughly transient the feeling is, but also an element of pervasive fear in how constant the threat of it is, & how thoroughly unbearable it is when it strikes. it can feel like no way to live, like full justification for an intensely reclusive lifestyle

i'm not sure my voice is even so "egregious" (in these terms) in conversation. i've received some pretty convincing reassurances about it. but i still manage to feel burdened by my capacity to make very low, chest-resonant sounds in private, even if i avoid them in conversation. i feel burdened by all memories of having done this, because they preclude the overwhelming comfort that i feel in great need of, that of simply having a physiology that makes those sounds kind of infeasible to produce in the first place - which would make me actually physically oriented toward my present manner of speech instead of having it be a product of compensatory training & practice, unseen hours of feeling like a barely held together disguise which still feels so capable of slipping, something eternally tenuous - the metaphor always in my head is kind of specific but it is an electrical cable sawed in half & you twist the copper filaments sticking out around each other & wrap them in scotch tape & hope the current passes through

i guess it's kind of reached a point where... it has departed from being an insecurity, a thing rooted primarily in other's perceptions of me, & arrived at being something i instead primarily regard as an omnipresent symptom, a reaffirmation, of this condition of definitively qualifying as the sex that i do, which in spite of its benign & arbitrary quality i have an irrational & obsessive need to escape at times, with no productive outlets towards which i could focus that need

as i've said before, i feel like maybe i need to focus on not giving so much of a voice to it. because it is such a large bummer of a feeling, one that feels like it has, for a long time now, ceased to have any angles on it to be discovered in going on about it. because it feels like such a simple if stressful thing. so nearly any time i go on about it i'm mostly just reiterating its feeling of being naturally irreconcilable, & there is something almost masochistic about it. i don't know what to do. i want to be happy & i certainly would not have chosen something that is such a burden to that aim


march 18th, 2022


today every glance at another human being is a painful occurrence. i cannot stand being in public & having to bear witness to secondary sex characteristics. it feels like i am watching every person suffer a horrible indignity

it's very tempting to try to romanticize biological human characteristics & find a persistent beauty in them, but you can only take it so far before you arrive at a set of values wherein, for instance, it comes to feel horrifyingly tragic that half of all people on the planet are reproductively incompatible in spite of their personal compatibility. you can only value these things up to a point past which the world becomes horrifically uncaring & cruel in light of them as valued things

many people seem to reconcile this by refusing to project much meaning onto our arbitrary biological situation, in favor of... seizing & appropriating what there is to be reaped from the consciousness they've been gifted with as an effect of that biology. distancing themselves from arbitrary biology, embracing their quality of being an awareness before being a homo sapiens, taking the consciousness & running with it, radically orienting themselves toward the pole of living which is represented by personal compatibility

i think that this is very easy & sensible to do. it can just feel fraught i guess. there is always that aforementioned temptation, & you end up asking yourself questions like, can i go on this walk & love the green trees & project meaning onto them without necessarily letting that meaning wash over my biology as well? do i have to exempt myself? can i really pick & choose my projections of meaning arbitrarily? & you can. that is the privilege of being conscious i think. i feel that it is something i have to do, so as to not let the world feel very cruel. it's a matter of emotional survival

i guess there is a central uncertainty & tension where i'm not certain whether i am transcending biology or employing a constant stoicism towards fleeing from it. am i appropriating reality for my pre-biological ends, or rebelling against it?

an extreme form of the latter conclusion seems to be what makes people into conservatives, who wholly submit to objectified conceptions of themselves & see no use in fighting what they perceive as inevitabilities. maybe they see themselves as exempt from that central self-denial, even if they have all kinds of stringent values which scatter other forms of self-denial through their lives

for instance: a "man" who is not socially permitted to show emotion, but is free to project meaning onto seeing himself in his child in a materially vouched-for way that affords him a sort of comfort as a material being. alternatively, maybe there are some people who have children but abandon that projection of meaning all the same. but both are sort of unified in existing at odds with the third side, the breadth of people who are left with no choice but to abandon it


march 21st, 2022


i can hardly bear this anymore, i don't know why i am trying, i don't know what the point is of trying to internally align myself with worthwhile modes of being if i can't also shut off the irrational sense of my body being a negation of those modes of being. i can do everything within my power on the inside but i can't do a thing about my outside & its seeming multiplication of it all by zero. internal subjectivity subjected to external objectivity, subjugated, subverted, smothered, wasted


- Neocities seems to go back to normal -


march 26th, 2022


sometimes i really don't like constantly worrying about the length & orderliness of my bangs. but i could never just chop them
off, because they obscure my forehead, in which i see my birth sex. & fleeing from my birth sex as effectively as possible feels
like a prerequisite for my psychological survival. through this relationship, the bangs seem to transmute the struggle with my
birth sex, a struggle that is fundamentally unwinnable, into a symbolic struggle that is winnable. i fear that if i cut them
off, then, faced with only the unmasked unwinnable struggle, i would end up in some kind of psychological death state


march 27th, 2022


i need to not think. i can't think

i want to do good cute things & not think about my body. the ideal is that i do good things & they count
whether or not i am thinking about my body. i do not think that is an ideal that is available to me, though

reading wikipedia pages calmly spelling out irreversible aspects of my body in the
mid-2010s was a pivotal life experience & probably among my worst life experiences

i think a step that is to be taken by anyone becoming close to me, & taking an
interest in having any hand in my emotional well-being, is at some point thinking:

"okay, i now grasp that there is legitimately no direct action i can take with respect to this. insofar as this is to
remain an emotional constant, the extent of my role as a person who is helping this person to feel better is simply
keeping her mind off of this fixed reality, which i would remedy if it was remotely possible, but i can't"

my contentment feels inherently dependent on maintaining a willful blissful
ignorance, & in that sense can seem endlessly provisional & fragile

additionally: i typed all of this in response to lots of nice suggestions of comforting activities, & despite the overall truth of
this writing, i do not want this writing to exist in the face of the simple niceness of those activities. i don't want to be this, i don't
want to embody something so problematic when such simple niceness can alternatively exist. that's why i don't want to think

i don't want to feel like my life is spoiled & ruined by my body anymore. i don't know what to do. i would lobotomize myself if i
could then be incapable of thinking thoughts detailed enough to even constitute a need to escape my body. i don't know what to do.
i can't conceive of a reality where i don't feel ruined. this isn't working. i can't imagine it working. all i can do is wait & bide my
time & see if life presents some inane means of working, a means that exists outside the present bounds of my imagination

it would be so incredibly simple for me to be simply my exact present self except free. just free of this arbitrary burden
which forcibly redefines me from my identical free self to this burdened self, this pointlessly agonized alternative.
it would require an adjustment that in the grand scheme of things is incredibly minor & simple. it can't happen

there are plainly days that i feel very happy, because i talk about them on this website. but things are okay until this awareness
seems to shred into me again & burden me with the knowledge that those spans of happiness were only moments where i managed
to suspend ignorance of this intolerable underlying reality. it is an immense perversion that is applied to those good moments

when people suggest such nice things, i can feel like i am watching
my life dangled in front of me inches away behind bulletproof glass

i can only wait to again forget my present state of being, my present self, essentially. my existence
is essentially a strict binary between the times i am remembering & the times i am forgetting

ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow


april 1st, 2022


i am coming to feel no less than pathologically obsessed with the secondary sex characteristics of anyone
i pass on the street. i had to stand by a food truck for half an hour, waiting on a pizza, & there were
people everywhere. i eventually began cryingbecause for the entire time it was all i could focus on

i see too much cruelty in it. it's very debatable & subjective what degree of cruelty there is in it, but i cannot
help but to see cruelty in it. i can't neutrally exist in a crowd. it is very painful. i feel like a thing that was
absolutely not meant to be a human being, which died & reincarnated into one. although that is obviously just
an over-romanticization of a condition which stems exclusively from my singular experience as a human being

how am i supposed to move through life like this


april 3rd, 2022


i think an element that contributes to my periods of inconsolable distress about being male is that i am so against the
reality of it that i do not want anyone to form even subconscious perceptions of me that are informed by it, even ones
that are subtle, insignificant, or even sympathetic, because they make it more socially real. & the abject inconsolability
becomes incentivized by a perception of mine that, if anyone does develop those perceptions of me, maybe i could
negate them by subjecting myself to an absolute internal obliteration with respect to my sex - a complete,
total refusal, thorough to a point of painful self-destruction, while committed & sincere enough that it
might leave no one with the ability to hold those perceptions in their head. an incontrovertible
assurance that this state of affairs is simply a terrible mistake


i often wonder if i don't simply deserve a slap in the face & a stern lecture about the immense & gorgeous potential residing
in the undifferentiated consciousness that lives in every human body, & being much stronger about not letting that potential
seem quashed by such an arbitrary & commonplace quality of my body, one that doesn't even really meaningfully hinder me


april 22nd, 2022


i would love to know if at least a subset of humanity has at least semi-consistently experienced some degree of inherent
terror at a person's position in the whole reproductive binary having been decided in advance for everyone who has ever
lived since we first evolved or if i & anyone else who relate are a historical or cultural particularity in any way

i say this purely in reference to the physicality of it & the sense of existential powerlessness that that can elicit in & of
itself - which is to say, i mean this in a vacuum from all the plainly obvious & innumerable horrific cultural responses to
the binary that have populated all of history, i mean a terror that could persist in a maximally egalitarian global society


may 6th, 2022


i've basically typed this post twice now, but:

there's something about how the word "gender" has sort of fuzzed out into this term connoted with a sort of performative
or exaggerated confusion, where it ultimately seems to be situationally replacing the word "personality" in cases
where one's processing of their personality is distorted by intrusion by the arbitrary structure of gender

to me, gender has never really been that complicated - that there exists a historically arisen mainstream spectrum between
femininity & masculinity that various styles of being (clothing, mannerisms, etc.) are arbitrarily laid out across in
traditional conceptions of life, & that one's navigation in relation to this system is a sort of two-dimensional
navigation horizontally along the spectrum & vertically along greater or lesser observation of the mainstream

each style of being that is laid out along the horizontal axis is sort of copied vertically, with expressions
of it existing at all potential levels of either adherence or disregard for its position horizontally

i guess a third axis would be consciousness:

on the adherent side, consciousness determines: does this behavior adhere to the binary out of complacent apathy, or is it
a conscious acceptance of it? or, more pertinently: is it in line with the binary but performed by someone opposed to it, as
a means of dissociating it from the binary & demonstrating its relativism when unclouded by the imposition of gender upon it?

on the opposing side, it determines: does this behavior consciously deviate from the binary, or is it done in a sort
of blissful (perhaps willful) ignorance of the binary, unaware that it even exists in opposition to its standards?

in my opinion, what complexity one sees in their navigation of this plane can really be the complexity
of their general introspection when regarded in terms of its distortion by exposure to the binary, i.e.
the potential to form unconscious associations between (femin/mascul)inity & any & all of the
aspects of life that can lodge in one's head & play a prominent role in their psyche

there's an obvious radicalism to, say, someone who traditional society would demand
function as a man instead pursuing interests & behaviors prescribed as feminine. but then,

is there a sort of neglected opportunity for a further radicalism when one proceeds to say they "love being
feminine," thus propagating the binary (only now crucially stripped of its authority & reappropriated
arbitrarily as a means of expression, a sort of aesthetic framework we've taken & ran with)?

what is the incentive for this in place of fully embracing the relativism of all human expression? is this because we don't
want to lose the capacity to meaningfully be feminine & masculine? could this be considered a kind of Stockholm
phenomenon, an inability to let go of what is familiar, &/or had to be wrenched from the hands of traditional
currents? are we even capable of actually undoing the implantation of the binary in ourselves?


may 19th, 2022


i do not anticipate ever feeling as at ease in any situation as i feel in an imagined version of that same situation where i happen to have not been
born male. it feels like a fundamental emotional hindrance. imagining the most joyous situation i could bring about in my life, i would still imagine
it being a second-rate version of that same moment but experienced with this irrelevant difference present. i measure all prospective experiences
not in terms of their unhindered delight, which no experience can access, but in terms of how they can function for me as reparations. this is
not always something that i feel sharply at the forefront of my mind but it does have a background effect on all of my emotional processing,
on any & all experiences that i imagine having with others. sometimes the most meaningful experience produces only a sense of
detachment, & this is because its framing as reparations is not appropriate for it, but i am left with little else to feel

the problem is really only an irrational switch in my head which i need to flip, but i feel that i need material permission to flip it & God will not
grant me that permission. the situation is one that i have come to fully grasp & it is sufficiently simple that it never offers anything new to say
about it, no new productive insights, only the same tiredness. i walk around & feel happy sometimes. i materially exist & material existence
clearly can produce, as sporadic byproducts, conditions for which there is nothing to say, only feeling the same thing forever

there is never anything new to say about it but i periodically come back to it & restate it over & over, like a kind of indictment
against reality, as if it cares. as if i will eventually mobilize someone against my reality, as if anyone could actually do anything


may 20th, 2022


saving myself several years of time by sending a letter to my past self that says "you will go 'i feel like i am not
legitimately a 'woman' & it is messing me up. :( oh wait i guess that is probably just an anxiety that is common to
the social role in the abstract & i only thought i was genuinely invalid because i thought my non-traditional entry
into the role made me a 'special case.' ok cool i guess i win now that i thought that thought. i will now continue
my arbitrary occupation of the role because i find that plan marginally more cozy than doing otherwise'"


june 5th, 2022


part of me suspects that the kind of soul-wrenching helpless feeling i get when an unfavorable permanent
physical alteration is made to something, even if it's very minor (& often cosmetic), is a kind of sublimation
of the pervasive grief that i feel about the analogous permanence in the development of my body. i don't
know, though, maybe it's too convenient of a hypothesis... one of my vinyl sleeves got water on it


june 7th, 2022


upon many developments in my life, a part of me will once again tell me that my "actual" life is somehow contingent
on having been born the opposite sex & that, by enabling the development at hand, what i have done is simply taken
the confusingly pointless "not-actual" life i am faced with & compensatorily squashed it like play-dough
into the superficial shape of something i could have seen perhaps occurring in my "actual" life

operating under that conviction, things can remain functional if i limit my existence to a scope within
which nothing can confront me with any exemplification of my sexual differentiation. if i encounter
any sort of friction in that respect, everything inside of me sort of crashes down. i blank
out & realize that i don't really know why i'm doing anything that i'm doing


june 9th, 2022


my anthropology teacher is completely "trans-accepting" & actively supportive but i get this odd disquieted feeling as
if she's about to sneer at me whenever she starts talking about the general sexual divisions that have been a consistent
presence across basically all cultures & civilizations across human history & how there have never been any known
unambiguously matriarchal societies. until exactly right now where there's alex shut-in who blogs i guess


june 12th, 2022


stare with completely dead eyes at chibi rabbit holding lgbt flag in tumblr art radar & think nothing for
twenty minutes then "this sgnifies my social authentication,." then nothing for another twenty minutes


june 25th, 2022


nestled under the main patch of my brain devoted to general indignation about roe there's
the tiny secondary patch which craves some kind of suffering to compensate for my material
inability to not have physical exemption from its most direct potential consequences

my friend, with glib grimness or grim glibness, says not to worry since it is indicative
of a nigh guaranteed regressive streak that shall certainly induce extended suffering
to myriad alternative & deviant aligned lifestyles as denoted by fascists


july 5th, 2022


the idea of physical intimacy as a kind of selective, meaningful choice on my part, for the sake of my positive construction of
an exceptional sort of joy in my life... it definitely has an appeal, but the more i observe it the more it feels like i am only
holding myself to a standard i cannot live. i feel such a compromising lack of identification with my body. it makes me
feel like i am doing everything for no reason. i feel like i operate solely within a totally neutral "i'll be glad(?)
for this other person that they are participating in something that is good for them. okay." sort of place

stuck in my body, stuck in a sterile realm of ideas. one of the only things i care about is that water doesn't get spilled on my
laptop. i like birdsong & lukewarm patches of sunlight. i want to walk around. i want to reveal what the albums i've been
downloading sound like. i care about things that are extreme enough to actually make me laugh instead of just tiredly
speaking an established language of humor that's dead from the moment it's used even a second time


july 6th, 2022


(drunk) i want to be listening to vektroid in2013 blank banshee zero chuck persons eccojams i want to not even
know that its a toto sample...bring back that ignorance. i want to explain to you right now in the plainest terms how
incontrovertibly bleak everything feels for me so that by no means can you even attempt to contradict or comfort me


in taking medications that spare me from ever having to reckon with myself as a being capable of sexual impulses, i am
presented with a somewhat interesting system where i am capable of enabling, through the inactivity of not taking the
medication, the resurfacing of what is ultimately just a chemically mediated compulsion that typically arises & makes
itself self-justifying through its physiological authority, but, being inhibited & thus incapable of enacting that
self-justification, can never make any case for its un-inhibition even though it is very possible


i genuinely one hundred percent don't regard myself as an lgbt person whatsoever
i just process that conservative lawmakers don't like me & that's it really


i am constantly looking forward to my next opportunity to protractedly rejoin
my sweet fantasies that reality will never approximately approximate


i think im going to lose my mind if i don't resume the practice of consistently visualizing myself in the
third person with an alternative appearance from what i actually have. in realtime as i go about my day

i think it has a constructive effect on my internal life & social functioning because i have something wrong with me where i
think i need to appear like what i feel like (as if the visual-temperamental correspondences aren't made up in the first place)

i think my life depends on reinstating this


july 9th, 2022


(drunk) I LOVED LOVED LOVED WHEN ALL THE CHICKENS CHASED ME AT THE SAME TIME. IT WAS THE
LAST TIME THAT I FELT ANYTHING. I DON'T WANT TO FEEL FROM ANYTHING BUT CHILDLIKE GIDDINESS

ON SOME LEVEL I REVEL IN TELLING MY BOYFRIEND THAT I AM A DEAD BODY

ON SOME LEVEL I REVEL IN ELUCIDATING TO MY BOYFRIEND WITH THE GREATEST GRIM
PRECISION HOW ALL APPRECIATION OF MY BODY EVER FELT BY ANYONE WILL BE
COMPLETELY FUNDAMENTALLY ONE-SIDED & TO THEIR BENEFIT ONLY

TELLING HIM HOW I AM AT BEST A DOLL TO APPRECIATE. HOW I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF
THIS. HOW THERE IS MATERIALLY NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT THIS INHERENT TOTAL DISSOCIATION

I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE FEELING SO LITTLE WHILE TELLING MYSELF I'M FEELING MORE. I DON'T WANT
TO TELL MYSELF I'M JUST FEELING THE SAME LITTLENESS THAT EVERYONE FEELS. I'M SICK OF
TOLERATING BORING ART & THINKING IT'S MY FAULT FOR THINKING IT'S BORING


july 10th, 2022


basically i just drunkenly bawled my eyes out in my underwear while sitting on some porch steps with my
breasts visible & at least once drooling all over myself because i felt in the moment like if the same
issue is going to torment me for like eight years then i want at least once to just bawl over it in a
way that felt a bit dramatic & unhindered. & now i want all you [website] people to know this


insane extreme contrasts for me. the simple innocence of birdsong, to experience everyday, that innocence pitted against
the immeasurable uncaring cruelty of the universe casting all humanity as sexed beings. forget the latter so i can feel the
former. just forget . birdsong. nothing close. nothing physically intimate close. instead i'm a being built for birdsong


the fact that my mind isn't actually invalidated by my body, but has, independently of that body, actually accrued value & detail
that other people care about, is agonizing. the fact that an excuse to proceed has been set in stone by this point, in the form
of my mind, legitimately justifying the remainder of my lifetime spent in my body, is agonizing. & it'll always sincerely
be agonizing but i want to forget that it's agonizing because it's too sad to be anything but the innocence of birdsong


i want to believe that im full of love, too full of love to just see it go unexpressed

& the only path towards its expression seems to be forgetting. birdsong.
forgetting & revocation of my closeness & sexuality & my body, truly

if i have ever felt at any time like i "should" die, it has always been distinct from thinking i "deserve" to die. i
don't hate myself anymore. if i am ever to feel like i "should" die i would regard it as something tragic because i'm
willing to believe that i'm good & shouldn't have to think that i "should" die even if someday i might think that

i want to never think that, because it's too sad, so i want
to never think it. by forgetting. by separating myself
from my body so i can be the innocence of birdsong


Why?

asking: Why?

& the answer is obviously very simple & immediate: because the concepts of authority or supervision are artifacts of human
consciousness, so naturally there was no authority to supervise the pre-conscious evolution of human life & spare me from this


i fall asleep


idea: i am "transgender" because love is in large part a confrontation of the perceived difference between one person & another, &
sexual difference is a highly visible & often societally exaggerated split which is so broad as to approximately halve the species.
this makes it highly prone to becoming a foremost vector of difference relative to love for many people, but not all. i naturally
confronted this vector &, being terminally unwilling to really impose myself on the exterior world & the people in it, instead
took a highly introverted route of seeking to eliminate the difference so that i wouldn't see anything to confront anymore


concept: consciously sort of trying to look like "a guy" again for my bus ride so as to diminish any risk of
hypothetical midnight bus stop gendered harassment or violence, but unconsciously sort of trying to look like
"a girl trying to look like a guy" so as to sneak some less responsible personal validation into the conscious aim


everyone's life has existential poetics, that goes for me too whether or not i "like" my particular poetics on the particular level
where my coveting of alternatives can play out. it doesn't do me any good to pass my own personal judgment on my circumstances

if i am going to toss expressions of my feelings out on the internet, i'm conflicted about having them slip into being so dismally
self-centered. maybe there's a place for it as a real type of emotional expression, but... i think everyone should come at this...
parentally, everyone should put out humane ideas so as to be diffusely parental towards the general climate of ideas


new experimental definition of God: whoever is holding you in reality during the bad dream that is your life


july 11th, 2022


Basically sexuality does destroy my mind & replace it
with that of an unfettered unrepentant nihilist until
i can re-forget everything that it exemplifies


i wish this was a bad dream that i could wake up from with amnesia over
& over every day. i want to feel the indescribable relief again & again


scream helplessly into the pillow & carry on, grateful on some
level to at least feel something even if it has to be despair.
& hope to rejoin the innocence of birdsong in the morning


i want to believe that none of this is actually happening & that i'm going to wake up in a simple
& materialistically realistic Heaven. but i'm retaining too much self awareness to believe that.
at best i would like to lose the significance i assign to "really happening" versus "not really
happening." i would like to become kept afloat by a belief that i only have to process this bodily
circumstance for a while until i wake up from it. i don't think i am capable of believing that
i will go to a happy afterlife after i die but i would like to believe that at some point i am going
to wake up to simply an adjusted mortality. the same mortality but with an adjustment that i need


july 12th, 2022


a little insight into my psyche, meant to exemplify my "tilt" which informs my body dysmorphic feelings: i will see pictures of
"men" & pictures of "women" (a lot of weight in these terms being carried by the bodily aspects which are particularly dimorphic
& hormonally indifferent, like facial structure) & on some level almost not quite "get" how the former are even able to
generally stand being alive while having to process what they are in light of the two general possibilities on offer


july 15th, 2022


i can't sleep because i am thinking about the fact that my daydreams (of being loved by the person i imagine)
always quietly incorporate the caveat that i am actually the opposite sex, & what this suggests to me is that
even if i actually meet that person then i will crash into the same biological issues & probably become
a completely irreparably broken person from having it demonstrated right in front of my eyes that the
miraculous best case scenario would still just be me walking right up to a door that is locked shut


but as i said a couple of nights ago this is just an immersive bad
dream with an incredibly distended sense of time & in my real
bed i am being held throughout its duration in my actual body


july 16th, 2022


we tried to watch a movie but the women in it made me start to feel intensely depressed so i am just lying on the air mattress with
my head feeling like a pressure cooker thinking about what i could conceivably do for relief, which i think is nothing. so it's just
a pained, arbitrary moment of existence. with no directive & nothing to take away from it like staring at a patch of drywall


i need help but i can't have it. it's not that i'm stuck dreaming of someone being here who could actually help me. it's
not that i just need to be somewhere else. it's the stark awareness that there is no one who can help me, & nowhere that
can help me, due to the impossibility of what i need. the four sentences that i just typed do not do justice to the actual
feeling. it has extensive implications. there is nothing to do in reaction to irreconcilable need. it is just something
to stare at like a chunk of concrete in the middle of a parking lot & think about how i already knew the
universe was uncaring but it really displays it with this little state of affairs


july 17th, 2022


a certain radical internal restructuring of myself that would
make my current situation instead feel blissful exactly as it is


it's like my brain is completely bifurcated into the half that needs to freely recognize how inconsolably agonized it is, & the
other half that needs to drown it out with amazingly pure belief in the curative capacity of rain & flora & rainbows & birds &
the simple silent non-escapist tranquility of a room in a house & forgetting all deadening pop culture & curling up on soft
furniture & speaking softly & forcing my subjectivity to be self-justifyingly valid & real by sheer force of will & just
being all the human yearning for joy forcing itself to be real by way of its eternal confident justification & the
beauty that comes even with flaws if one can just let go of everything less than good & it just asserts
assertively for the good of everything that this all just can't not be real. & just & & &.


i don't know how to phrase it it's like i just need to be ok because even just the idea of earthly Heaven is clenching
at me & it's itself (adjective) enough {bright, good, pure...} that i don't even have the option of denying it.
but i need to be ok to accept it. i can't let go of how good life could be even if i really want to


i fall asleep


two people are sitting in lawn chairs with their backs to me. their arms are sticking
out. i feel like i can sexually distinguish them by their arms. i can't pick out where
exactly their arms deviate to cause this. i feel terrified of the nuance of my arms


there are a lot of times lately where i do not so much want to be alive, but if someone were to bring me a tray with euthanasia
medicine on it, it would immediately feel like a ridiculous anticlimax & incredibly depressing compared to just promptly leaving
the tray to walk to a park & look for photos to take & share. it is like no matter how much it hurts i am never allowed to
deny the value of simple experiences. which is kind of reassuring but kind of hurts in its own right too

so i think, out of all there is to do in life, i need to be relegated to a very specific little sheltered sliver
of it, protected from any decimating exposure to anyone who i might feel i was maybe supposed to
be. i need to keep taking sex drive mitigating medications & forget my body for the rest of my life


july 22nd, 2022


some things have turned out exactly as i expected them to but hoped for them not to

i take medications. someone speaks fondly of an attribute of my body caused by the medications. maybe they say, "your skin is soft."
it doesn't feel good. i think, "i want my skin to be soft while i am female." & then maybe they compliment something i didn't even
need the hormones for, something more inherent, "x aspect of your body is good." & i think, "i want to have x aspect of my body be
good while i am female." & then the same happens with an aspect of my character. & then something good happens that has nothing
to do with my body. but i want to have experienced it while female. i want to experience joy while female. i don't want to
experience it while male. & maybe i want to experience grief if i can experience it while female. i don't understand

i can't claim that no joy ever manages to pierce through this conviction & force itself to be felt. sometimes
it does. but plenty often the conviction is very efficient at declining all joy that is put on the table


a self-critical part of me feels really seedy for being male while thinking i should be female, because that part conceives of the
feeling as an expression of a "male agency's" relation to "femaleness," & that's where the "seediness" lies. but then the less
self-critical part of me finds that intensely frustrating, because the ideal of negating all "male agency" of myself is exactly
the point, while the un-ideal reality is that any & all of my agency is nonetheless trapped as what i can see as "male agency"


- posts may continue to appear in this lacuna -


august 2nd, 2022


a screenshot of a Tumblr post: "i wish i could spend the rest of my life around trans people"

i really really am not following some urge to be a jerk or a wet blanket or a killjoy when i say this stuff, only to report my perception: i feel like my soul
is leaving my body every time i am reminded that there is a significant portion of my age group who have the basic open mindedness & empathy needed to oppose
conservative social norms, but that a seeming majority of them are content to reduce their cultural expressions of empathy & morality to these kinds of babyish,
fanatical statements that approach things in the most meaninglessly categorizing & depersonalizing terms, obsessed with reinforcing & valorizing categories
instead of dismantling them in favor of devotion to individuality. there is never going to be an "empathetic" or "culturally intelligent" version of performatively
assigning traits to categories. they are just groupings. ok, be positive! be positive in whatever way! but this is so overwhelmingly present & is fundamentally
just always going to be a masturbatory divergence from reality. you can just like yourself & like who you like without trying to draw a map. if the
conditions of victory are getting to sit around feeling validated by this kind of limp, aimless, deindividualizing pandering & cultivation
of "earned" ingroup mentality then it wholeheartedly means nothing to me & i can't pretend that it does. it's only ever to me felt like
an indulgence of some terribly flawed part of the psyche but treated as circumstantially reasonable. this has to be seen as digging
under the surface level issues & instead pertaining to more fundamental issues about the spirit & honesty of expression & self
conception, which when nourished could even produce more consistent & strong expressions of this liberatory side of those issues.
i know this is a medium sized block of text where it seems like i am just flipping my lid & going off for no reason but it is an
attempted representation of an extremely concise & instinctual tiredness, i am very tired & i have been tired for like eight
years. maybe this screenshot isn't even that bad like it's not the most representative example, maybe i should have
screenshotted something else. just let the screenshot define the genre of expression. there are far more harmful
things i could complain about instead, like conservatism. oh well. i have been awake for like twenty six hours
& after i sleep i will reread this & see if i decide it feels really bitchy & get embarrassed about it


august 24th, 2022


if i truly was with the right person, then i would hope that the circumstance
would work some magic in my head to make my body subjectively irrelevant

but, if it didn't, then i would only scurry close enough to the dream that i could reacquaint myself with
the unbreakable window which tortuously bars the path at the last moment, & i would end up again
like that night bawling drunk on porch steps helpless of any method to claw my way out of this thing


september 3rd, 2022


how can a person's body simultaneously occupy the two opposite extremes of being the most personal
thing about them, the center of their sense of intimacy, & also completely & arbitrarily forced onto them?

there have been occasions in the past where i have done fairly intimate things, not out of any particular want to do
them, nor for the sake or approval of the other person, but simply because i did not identify any particular reason not to
comply with the situation at hand. i wonder sometimes if this wasn't indicative of some kind of "pathology" involving
dissociation from my body, an absence of any notion of personal & social criteria regarding closeness. or maybe
that is precisely just a "pathologization," & people are just beings who do actions a lot & it's whatever


looking ahead to decades of the waxing & waning of a certain irreconcilable psychological friction & thinking about the
fact that all of it will always be due entirely to having lost a single literal coin flip that was performed before i existed


september 12th, 2022


writing extensively on the class discussion board about {my history of irrational valorization of suffering
as integral to my being a real person, paired with {a sense of having suffered insufficiently}}
pairing
with {my history of intense & inescapable-feeling sexually-oriented dissatisfaction with my body} to
have once produced {a sense of feeling permanently & fundamentally marred by what ease i perceive
in my past & wishing i had a time machine just so i could introduce suffering into my lifetime
that might make me valid in the eyes of a trans-exclusionary radical feminist}


september 23rd, 2022


(drunk) speaking in evolutionarily teleological terms will always be a masochistic denigration of human subjective experience
(& taking-the-power-into-its-hands-by-molding-the-most-out-of-its-arbitrary-physicality) unnecessarily prostrate at the
feet of objectifying biological terms projected into a prescriptive framework for experience BUT: it's still hard
not to feel like "it" "made" my face "this" way because "it" doesn"t "want" me to be doing what i'm doing

like "it" "made" my face "to" communicate information for strict "purposes"

(this post is about helpless existence within the framework of human sexual characterisrics)


october 6th, 2022


my whole world view, i had to explicitly set it at one point as "constructing the meaning that's
inevitable for any conscious being anyway," just so i wouldn't have to feel nihilistic any more

yet, when it returns to the forefront of my mind that i do not feel like i should be the sex that i am, that is when i start
hypocritically calling myself an idiot for projecting meaning onto either sex (a prerequisite for that dissatisfaction)...
because the moment i stop draining that of meaning is the moment when i have to start feeling bad about it, start feeling a
relationship to the resultant meaning. & i have not been alive on this earth for a single second wherein that ship had not
already sailed. so the more i allow myself to feel bad about it, the more i verge towards the irreconcilable psychological
dissolution that already claimed years of my life... so i drain it of meaning & insult myself for not doing otherwise.
but, conspicuously, i do not do the same for sexually undifferentiated rituals like holding hands

past times marked by such a scrambling desperation for psychological survival that i have to start
asking myself questions like, "all of my intuition says there are two, but, beneath my intuition,
what is 'two,' really? it's not like 'two' is inscribed in the fabric of reality. it's just that this
'molar' phenomenon of 'two' sexes is just a perceptual element that has emerged from the
numberless flux of physics & dna & biology. the 'two' doesn't have to be an inherent
element of reality. that can be comforting, i guess. that can be comforting, i guess."

it is going to hurt until the day i die but it
does not have to maximally hurt constantly
but it is going to hurt until the day i die too


it feels like an illness, & whether for myself i call it a mental illness
or a bodily illness is very dependent on my mindset at a given time

it has a very confusing relationship to societal confrontation with gender. because societal confrontation with gender
lives in the realm of what we all already are, & within that realm it asks questions which ultimately concern the
mental categories we draw, as well as generalized freedom of expression, all as a response to the fixed reality

the illness, on the other hand, lives in the realm of what-ifs, & asks... well, it has no questions to ask, it only has
a single declaration that produces a lifetime of upset, fluctuating between grinding pain or a slow burn beneath


october 19th, 2022


having mildly agonizing thoughts to the effect of "this person who enjoys my company deserves to interact with a version
of me who is not subject to what i still partially regard as a kind of fundamental existential corruption of being male, which
i have to constantly employ mental defenses against thinking about too hard" but i am already alive & will continue
to be alive regardless of how i feel about the physical terms of being alive & i have a good friend who i go with to
the antique mall & nature trail & everything feels different & i am happy, & i have to be happy, it is
going to ache for eternity until i die with it still aching but i have to be happy


purgatorial feeling lying in bed in silence, painful somatic feeling like pressure
welling inside my skull, inclination to begin crying helplessly for a while

today was fantastic & this is all only setting in spontaneously. although it does still really hurts that it
concerns an attribute which silently permeated the whole wonderful day the way it permeates every other day