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Okay my poem "I'll be there" that I wrote and posted on tumblr days ago is still getting notes. It's up at 19 now and I don't even know why. But yeah, my more sweet love poems tend to get more notes than the more harsh reality ones. They both reflect my reality however, as there is both a sweet and a bitter side to my feelings.

How can I be exhausted and still not tired enough to sleep? Is exhausted even the right word? I don't know what else I would feel. But I continue drinking and smoking myself more tired. Bored with everything. I'm feeling so dead that not even the best songs can make me shiver. It feels like someone beat up my soul and mind and then stuffed them back into my body.

I think about when I sold parts of my soul for the first time, it was regarding my top surgery and I simply asked Satan to "fix this shit or I can't live" and he did... and I still can't live. Do I regret it? I don't know. I literally have no idea how much fact I can put in my faith and what will happen to me when I die since I joined Satan. And I feel as though I can't tell people even why I'm a Satanist because that would involve outing myself. Even my religion has to do with my transsexualism. It all does, one way or another.

And I hate that it is that way. I just want... I don't know what I want, but to be free of it. To change my past and not have had to go through that. For it to not be such an important puzzle piece of my life. But it became that way and I guess if I really want someone to know why I chose the religion I chose, I just have to accept that somehow. And I've been thinking about coming out again and live openly, but the truth is that neither way is a good way to live for me.

With stealth comes secrecy and being put in a lot of awkward situations, but over all a freedom to be seen as who I am. With being open comes the constant feeling of never being "man enough" in people's eyes, of never really feeling accepted, but then I don't have to lie and get out of tricky situations. Both lifestyles or what to call them, come with pros and cons and I just can't decide which one is ultimately the best. Where I live, I've never really been in any danger for being out as transsexual, or well, I wasn't when I lived in Uppsala on the main land. Here, on Gotland, I've never been out.

There's just never been any reason to, except in psychiatric and other health care situations, that is. And I'm just so tired of all the ignorant questions and assumptions that clueless cis people have of me once they know. So, at the end of the day I think I sort of fear coming out for that reason. Not that I'm scared of ending up in any kind of danger. Besides, actual danger never usually scare me whatever it's about. So it's convenient this way, but also, I just know that if I would come out, there's no going back.

Cause then I could obviously not take back what I said if I would change my mind and regret it. But then, there is fear in it too. I'm sort of half scared of not being accepted. That people would just call me a freak and never want to talk to me again. People that I see as trustworthy, likable and even as friends. I guess that would sting more than getting showered in ignorant questions and assumptions.

It was easy in Uppsala as I didn't have much other choice than being out. Most of the people I knew knew me from before my transition. I had to tell dozens of people to change my name and pronouns and then it took years for them to learn. Rumours about me spread like wildfire, but I guess I didn't care so much about that. I let them tell others about me, I let the whole city know. I thought that was an easier way to live. And in a way it was.

I don't know if I just want that back somehow, but I know it can never be the same, because telling new people about my past is just not the same as telling old friends about my future. So yeah, that does leave me clueless in what option to take. If I do come out, there is no going back. I think it took a while for me to realise that, but now it hits me.

A single thought that I've been avoiding for a while now, almost 2 years, hits me again and all I can do is hope and wish I will never have to face it. Cause I literally have no idea what the fuck I would do if I one day have to. And I told three different people and no, I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me.

I have to go to bed soon, it's getting hard to focus. That thought is thankfully slipping away again and I keep closing my eyes automatically which could potentially be life threateningly dangerous since I'm holding a cigarette 30-ish centimeters above my garbage bin full of flammable paper tissues. If I close my eyes for too long, fall asleep and drop my cigarette, that is. So yeah, bed soon.