Out of words

I'm done with the third draft and I feel strangely empty. Think I'm gonna take a few days off before I go at it again to make the fourth draft. See if I can get my father to print it all out on paper. But that requires of me to go over to my family's place and possibly stay there for a few days over a weekend or something. I really don't feel like dealing with them right now... Update: they don't have a printer anymore, so yeah, fuck that plan then.

I don't know but it feels like I'm slipping into depression. Though I'm just worried that it's me being too heavily influenced by a certain person again. Adapt to what he is feeling and somehow start feeling it myself. Is it even possible to get clinical depression because your loved one has it? My way of sympathising is reaching in far too deep for it to be healthy...

Like, what does it help anyway, to feel bad because he does? How is that helping him? How is it helping me? See what I did there? I thought of him before myself. I'm so tired today, only slept 2 hours last night, somewhere between 7 and 9 this morning. I've been rambling so much shit and mostly about the trans stuff. The same in new angles and some new stuff. We'll see if I'll post some of that later, I dunno.

About the TMI, just a quicky. I'm gonna try to abstain from masturbating for some time and see how that works out. I know I have done so in the past, but usually I can't go longer than a couple of weeks without it. And now being on testosterone... well, I'd call it a challenge.

I went running today, by the way, just like I said I would. I'm a man of my words! Haha, it was horrible though. I couldn't breathe. My lung capacity has always been sucky but with the smoking... yeah, you'll figure it out. One good thing about it though, is that nothing was bumping around on my chest, which... gah I can't describe the awesomeness of that feeling! I've never run since before the surgery, so that was a bit incredible.

Gonna keep running, just as much or little as I can every day not soon after I wake up, preferably before noon. Then when I get money again I'm gonna hit the gym as well. I really hope I won't fuck it up, that my motivation will hold all the way down to 55 or 50 kg. Damn, that sounds like such a low number. But I hope, because when I lost these last 20 kg, I lost most of it from my butt and thighs, that it will continue doing so this time as well. Was that sentence even understandable? I hope I will continue losing most of the fat from my thighs and butt just like before. That's better.

Cause that would be awesome, but I also want to lose more fat all over my body, even on my upper body. I want my collar bones and ribs to show. Not much, but they should be just slightly visible. I wanna be "model thin" but not to be mistaken for an anorectic. Hope you can imagine the difference, even if it's just a difference on 5 kg or less. I'm good at keeping the exact same weight for a longer time period, since I've been on 61 kg for several months now. I only shifted down to 59 kg for a short moment there in July.

I have ambition, motivation and a somewhat clear goal. I have a detailed plan that I can only hope will work. And I'm ready to go at it again, even though I still feel like shit. But maybe that's a good thing. I mean if I do manage to lose weight, that could perk me up a bit. Also exercising tends to make me feel a bit better, even mentally. But then, I'm gonna push myself to the limit so maybe it will just drain me completely. But then I still have my goal to look forward to, a light in the end of the tunnel.

I need to reach that goal, I need it for self esteem, a better body image and finding some kind of beauty in my body. I know that it's sad, that it requires so drastic methods for me to be able to accept myself, but at least I think it's possible that maybe one day I can accept myself. I do have hopes, dreams and wishes too painful to hold on to, but I do it anyway cause it's simply in my nature to do so. My dreams are not impossible but they are indeed hard to achieve.

But dreams... you need to hold on to them, no matter how painful they are to carry, cause they become your reason to live. Without dreams you would have no goals, no ambitions, nothing to look forward too. I know, because I've been there. Scared shitless with absolutely nothing to live for. And I don't want to end up there ever again. I'm gonna keep fighting, prove myself worthy of the body I sold my soul for. Satan has saved me, I just owe him and I can't get my reward without working for it.

It sounds like a contradiction but it's not. It's just that in order for the magic to work, I need to work for it. He can't magically change my body over night (though I wish) but I believe that he can make my goal possible if I do work for it. That without that reward, I would not be able to reach that goal no matter what I do. It's simple, but not easy.

I might be tricked, I might be fooled. It might not even be possible to sell one's soul. I might be able to reach my goal without the aid of Satan. I can never know for sure, cause that's the thing about religion: all you have is your belief. And my belief is weak, I keep losing it and re-gaining it, losing it again and re-gaining it again. Depends on my current state of mind. The more crazy and or desperate I am for guidance, the more I believe.

Oh... what am I gonna do about my wounds on my arm at the gym? Should I cover them up in bandage for aesthetic reasons or just don't give a damn and just show them? I only have a short sleeved shirt to wear and it would be too hot with long sleeves. Maybe a gauze or something could be a good idea. And if someone asks or tells me I shouldn't work out if I'm injured, I'd just tell the truth that I self harm and just didn't want to show it off.

I have no problem with telling people that, I'm just thinking it might be decent of me to cover it up somehow. People could be disgusted, distracted, worried and what not and I don't want that either. For everyone's convenience, you know. I sort of even look forward to going to the gym again. Cause there are like three different sports or exercise things that I appreciate doing: lifting weights, karate and horse back riding. I see no similarity what so ever between those three, do you?

Anyway, mostly I just look forward to looking and feeling better. If I get used to, or what to say, the gym after having lost all that weight, I might start building muscles then. But one thing at a time. Cause skinny and toned, now that's my dream body. I just remembered that once upon a time (many years ago, long before my transition) my best friend said that my type of guys are the slender ice skating type, guys I would go for. But now, realising that it was that body type I wanted to have myself.

Being kinda gay and a guy myself sometimes makes it hard for me to tell the difference between what kind of guy I want to look like compared to what kind of guy I would want to date. Funny thing though, before transitioning I thought the same about girls, cause I'm kinda straight too. Confusing? You bet!

Now I have a clear image of how I would love to look and still knowing that I might never be able to achieve that. I also know what kind of guys I fall for. Not looks, I almost completely don't give a damn about what guys look like. Though, a pretty face is always nice. With an attractive soul and personality, the rest just follows. Maybe it would be easier to find dates if I look better and have more confidence too. It should be, right? As long as I can remember how to open my sealed heart again, that is. Maybe K would want me if I look better though...

No, I don't think that is the problem. If any, and I hate to say this, the problem is on him. What I mean is that he doesn't seem to be receptive to love. Like he doesn't even care about love or finding a partner. I'm scared of telling you too much, but I've been pondering over that for a while now. That maybe he just can't love me, or anyone else for that matter, and it stings in my heart and mind, thinking that thought.

I don't care much myself these days either. I care about K, my book and my fucked up body, but that's pretty much it. I don't care about my self harm, any of it. I don't care about money, or the whole world around me. I don't care if I slip into a psychosis or depression.

But back on topic. I just really, really hope that losing weight can help reducing my extreme dysphoria and self hatred. Not entirely, most likely, but just to get it down to a tolerable level. Not a day in my entire life have I not had some kind of dysphoria. When I was jealous of the boys of my own age in pre-school, how tough and masculine they were. When I was not allowed to take my shirt off in first or second grade because I was a "girl" and it was inappropriate even though I did not have breasts yet back then.

When the guys in my school class got deeper voices and facial hair and I was so envious. When I got my period and felt like stabbing myself. When I got breasts and wanted to cut them off. When I hated my hips so much that I just had to hide them in any way I possibly could. When I tried to have sex but everything felt wrong. When I came out and hated every inch of my body but couldn't get hormones. My whole life has just been one stressful event of self hatred to another and I just want some fucking peace of mind.

I'm drowning in dysphoria and it's never been this bad before. It really sucks but at the same time I've never been this happy about my body before either. Entirely confusing. I just desperately need to lose that weight and I'm sorry that I'm just going on and on about this, but then again, no one's forcing you to read this. I won't and I don't get offended if you don't care to read it. It's entirely your choice and I respect that fully and completely. And I can just imagine tired eyes and an equally tired voice grunting "ugh, too much didn't listen" and I have full understanding for that, especially since this text became intimidatingly long.

I know I'm basically talking to a wall when writing and posting this, but I don't mind. I just vent and inform you about my life in case you're interested. Just that. So I keep ranting about my poor body image just because I need to vent, really. I appreciate you reading, but as I said, you really don't have to if you don't want to. No pressure, I promise.

I just don't want to hate myself anymore. I don't want to cry myself to sleep or in the shower or cut myself because I hate my body so much. Dysphoria is killing me brutally, constantly, over and over again and I forget that I have never liked my body this much ever before. I don't know how that extreme contradiction is possible, I just know that that's the way it is.

I can't stop writing. I literally can't fucking stop writing. If you didn't believe in such an addiction before, just look at this massive wall of text that never seems to end. Right now, when currently writing this, it seems completely endless to me. The words never stop coming and attacking me, the sentences never stop forming, the chaos within me just won't calm down. I'm looking forward to my next morning run and I'm gonna try to fall asleep a little earlier tonight.

I don't know where he's at, K. I wonder and I worry whenever he's offline after having written something awful somewhere, something that's happened or is happening to him. I worry that he will do something that he can't undo. And I wish I could be there for him, in any way, anything that could possibly help, if only just for a fraction of a second. A look of appreciation, a faint smile, a thank you for being here, a smiley in chat, anything at all. I don't care about how good that will/would make me feel about myself, all I care about is making him feel a little better. Completely selfless, I am. Whether you believe it or not, that's my interpretation.

Is there a limit on how long you can make a blog entry? I just came to think of. I hope not, but this is gonna take up an entire page if not more. I think this might be a new record in longest blog entry ever. Derailing from transsexualism and dysphoria to other things and then back on track again and then back and forth again and again. It's like I only have these things on my mind nowadays.

So, my plans are as follows:
- lose a significant amount of weight to get thin (haters gonna hate)
- possibly build some muscles
- get a hysterectomy
- get SRS in the form of metoidioplasty
- and finally, learn to accept myself after all that

I should feel complete after having checked off everything from that list. Complete as a human being, that is. Can't do much or anything at all about my species dysphoria, that thing about me being demonkin otherkin, you know. Yep, I still believe in that stuff. Fairytales are real, at least they were once upon a time long, long, long before humans stalked the earth. Or they exist in other dimension on the same planet. That is where I came from. Another time, possibly another dimension or a whole other world. It's not unreasonable.

I can't do anything about the fact that I have phantom limbs other than missing a dick. I have such as big bat-like wings (membranous), huge ram-like horns, a tail without fur and long black claws. Sometimes I save my fragile nails out and sharpen them, but they always break, or wear an artificial tail that I made out of pillow filling material and silky, black fabric. It's almost like wearing a packer. But I can, however, do something about my gender dysphoria instead. How come it's so common among otherkin to also be transgender, by the way? It strikes me as odd, yet comforting.

I met another otherkin on tumblr, also a transperson with strange pronouns of choice who also had asperger and believe me I so wanted to reach out and tell them I was trans too, but didn't dare, in case it would spread over tumblr and I don't want that. I'm going stealth there and I want to keep it that way. But sometimes I just want to reach out, you know. I told them though, that I was supportive of them being trans, and figured that was the best I could do without outing myself.

Something that's been bothering me, is transsexuals who are basically against other transgender identified people. Like what the fuck? We fall under the same umbrella term! Some people call those people "truscum" and they just kinda scare me. Cause you'd think that someone who has any kind of trans background/identity would be more accepting of other people in the same fucking situation. But no... apparently not. Society, what are you doing to people?

I wish I wasn't trans though, and I hate to admit it, but sometimes I frown upon people who take pride in being trans. I'm horrible, okay? Cause I just can't understand why anyone would find any kind of peace in being born as the wrong sex. Like what, do they find it interesting that they are different? I don't know, I honestly don't know or understand it. Cause as a transsexual I only want to be male and only male through and through. Cause that's what I am, on the inside. I would die, kill, repeat and repeat for a completely male body and to be cisgendered.

My only hope is that someday, if I reach my goal, I will be masculine enough to actually be able to identify myself as a cis-guy even though I wasn't born such.

Damn... I've written 6500 words of this kind of nonsense today... and finally, finally I'm out of words.