Dysphoria

I'm making tail space when I sit on chairs, I've noticed lately. You know, leaving a gap between my lower back and the back support. So I put on my fake (obviously) tail just to prove my point, and sure as hell, that's exactly what that gap was for.

Phantom limbs doesn't have to be missing human body parts, though I doubt I will walk around in public with a fake tail made from silk-like fabric and pillow filling material like some sort of prosthesis. I know some otherkin do, but I don't know... maybe it's cute on a teenage girl, but it sure would look a little funny on me. I've thought about it, but then people would stare and have opinions, so I don't think I'll actually do it. Alone at home sometimes, sure, but that's an entirely different matter.

I've been meaning to finish making my horns as well, but I'm stuck on trying to figure out how to fasten them on my head. I can't make authentic wings though, cause they would be about the size of my whole body (each wing) and that is just too much to make and to wear.

I don't mean to say that I'm not human, cause I know that I am. It's more that I so strongly identify with demons, they feel like family on a very deep level. I was one in both of my two past lives (that's as far as I can remember), it lies embedded in my soul. Imbued with it. I don't remember being anything else than a demon. I'm so used to it, and there's so much I miss about it. Maybe it's a delusion, but if it is then I am nothing. Cause I cannot exist if I am built without a foundation. Maybe that too is a delusion, that I think I don't really exist, sometimes. A delusion build on a delusion... interesting. Impossible, likely, possible, probably? How will I ever know?

However the case, I have a dysphoria. Gender and species dysphoria and both are clawing inside me today. Ripping and tearing and screaming, like a wild animal in a cage. I get no rest at all. There's something else too, but I hush it before the words reach my lips, or in this case before my fingers reach the keyboard. I'm afraid, but I can't tell you of what. That fear is both painful and exciting. I guess you might already know what it's about though.

I should go to bed, but I haven't even taken my sleeping pills yet. I slipped them when my mother called to make sure I got my whole cocktail of drugs swallowed down around ten o'clock this evening. Saved them "until later", sort of. Maybe now is later.