Truth

I've been more truthful than ever in this blog recently. It's not that I owe you that, it's just that I'm tired of polishing the real stories in a way so that they would sound better somehow. I'm complicated. I'm really fucking complicated and most things in my life are odd, ended up unexpectedly and don't quite fit the way they're supposed to have been.

For example. My transsexualism. I was never very masculine or boyish as a child. I didn't like playing with boys toys even though I was in fact offered them. My mannerism wasn't that of a boy's, it was awkward and on the girly side. Though I wanted to be a boy, I wanted it more than what I actually was. I envied other boys, but I didn't think of myself as one. I saw that I was a girl and I just simply hated it. It was more of a wanting. A strong, very sincere wanting that never left me.

It wasn't until my late teens that I started to feel that I never quite was a girl, it wasn't until I tried too hard to be a girl. I tried so hard at the end that I ended up looking and feeling like a total drag queen. When the high heels and short, revealing skirts just didn't sit right anymore. Sometimes after I came out I tried to perform, pretend that I wanted to pass when I really didn't care. All I ever wanted was a masculine body, a dark voice and a man's name. Well, I started to crave more along the way though. I'm not saying that I'm not transsexual, all I'm saying is that I'm a bit of a wildcard. Unusual, as with most other things, I'm not the typical transsexual. I've hid things like that, afraid I wouldn't be taken seriously.

Now that was just an example. I can't bring up everything, not at once at least. But I do want to, and I have thought it through. Especially now, people can't take things back from me. Things like that in that example that I cannot live without. I couldn't live without the treatment for my transsexualism, you know that. I fought for it so desperately for five years after I started out when I was 20.

I'm no any longer afraid that people will question how genuine I really am with this, all I have to say is that I threatened with suicide and tried to kill myself 4 times in less than a week because I couldn't get the treatment. I would of course have chosen a more fatal technique if it wasn't for that little inconvenience that I was locked inside a psychiatric ward, and most likely would have succeeded if I did. So it wasn't just an act of desperation to get them to take me seriously, it was real.

All of this, it's real. No, I don't think that you doubt that. You should know me pretty well by now. But I know there are people who would, if I would come clean like that. Oh well, enough sadness and despair for now. I will bring up more later, though there will of course always be things I'd rather keep to myself. Now if I could only remember how to stop writing... seriously, I've been writing non stop for about three hours now. That landed me on 3758 words for today. Hepp.