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.

Come one, come all

I'm in quite a confused state right now. Don't know exactly how to describe it. I'm thinking about my love and how things are with him. I'm worried, excited and feel guilty all at once. I don't know how to play my game, so to say. Which cards to show and which to keep hiding. It might be time to make a move, though I'm very uncertain.

Also thinking about my demon form. That I miss what I looked like, that it feels like an emotional amputation of sorts. Sometimes I think maybe this life has changed me too much, that I'm not the demon I once was anymore. I hope that isn't true. Cause if it is true then I am nothing. Neither demon nor human.

And I'm thinking about Caspian, my dearest from Dala, and that it was because of him I started to get more interested in elves. Tolkien and world of warcraft elves mostly. Every time I fall in love I hope that person is him. In spirit, of course. That even if he wouldn't remember being an elven prince in a past life, I would still somehow recognise them as him. Or her, cause you never really know with reincarnations now do you? They screwed it up in my case, so why shouldn't it be possible the same thing happened to him?

I wonder who I am and where I belong in this world, if not in my love's arms, the only place I want to be, the only place where I can't be. Cause even when I doubt, I can never really stop believing and hoping. My dreams are my life. But my life... is a nightmare.

All those words

Still crying, with pauses in between. Or maybe it's just the cigarette smoke, I don't know. But I feel so unbelievably sad. I can't take any pills for sadness, and there's no use in trying any antidepressants either. I dunno what my doctor can possibly tell me that I don't already know, at our next meeting on the 28th.

I was a bit upset when I got the note that I am to see her so late into January. She was supposedly back to work on the 8th so can't blame it on that. I suppose I just wasn't a priority.

Damn, I just wanna disappear somewhere. I don't wanna talk to anyone, don't want your simple tips on what I can do, I already have lots of lists with both good and bad things to do in a crisis like this. Well, maybe it's not so much of an actual crisis, but when cutting isn't enough (like now) I usually end up doing worse things, and that would be a crisis.

I wish I could be silent forever, to never speak a word again. Words are so pointless. Language is so pointless. They say the human mind cannot grasp what words cannot tell. I don't wanna say this because I'm otherkin, but I do grasp a lot of what words cannot tell. And that's why I find it so meaningless, cause words have no longer any meaning when none of them are enough to communicate with.

But I can't. I can't just decide to stop speaking. Of course people wouldn't call me that often anymore, but they would be banging on my door just as much instead. They would become more frustrated than I would be, given only nods or head shakes, short sentences written with a trembling hand.

People think that talking could cure mental illness. How wrong they are. "People" who are supposed to be educated in psychology, who have read shit loads of books on the subject for years, practised as psychologists or therapists or whatever, talked to lots of various broken people. "People" who should by all means know better than I do. I'm a hobby counsellor reading heavy students literature for fun, and I know that words can't cure anything.

Or am I just being subjective now? Because after years of seeing several so called "specialists" on the minds of humans haven't helped me even the least bit? Well, I finally got a psychologist, for the first time someone who actually knows more than I do. That is just sad. That I know/knew more about psychology than all those various counsellors I've met up until now. But most of all, I know that knowledge hasn't give me any solace.

So what, I have Aspergers. I know about it, and I know what you're supposed to do to make living with it easier. But you know what? None of that shit works on me cause I'm also an emotionally unstable, depressive, transgendered full time self harmer with split personality, who hears voices and believes that he's a demon. What do you do to "cure" that? Nothing. There is no cure for freaks like me.

Moments of clarity

My heart is hurting, it feels like my heart hurts. And I don't even know why, it's just painful. Yeah, maybe I do know why, but it's easier to escape it, easier to just run away from it. But I try not to. Just stay here, indulge in the pain and let it hurt me. Let it tear me to pieces.

I don't know why I think I should stay in the emotion, but maybe a part of me wants me to suffer. Be torn to pieces over and over until there won't be any excuses left. No reasons to pretend, no lies left to cover it up. The so very real, bleeding truth revealing. Taking over everything. Making true everything that I believe in, showing the real fucked me that I've been trying to humanise. For I am not human and I will never be. My false hopes of just being totally damaged falls apart and I realise once again that this is not only what I've become, but what I've always been.

Sure I have the typical traits of a human being, but just look at me. There are too many contradictions and impossibilities to look past. Things about me that just shouldn't be possible, yet they are. I believe in what I am in my days of clarity, and I accept that I'm different beyond reason, cause I know why I am here. I have discovered the answer to one of the most mysterious questions humans have asked themselves since the dawn of time. I know why I am here, my purpose, the meaning of my life.

But it brings me no comfort, no happiness or joy. I believe that I hold all the answers to all the questions I carry, but answers alone has never brought me anything. A great discovery is only great in the moment you discover it. Then you sit there and ask yourself "And? So what, what does it even matter? How does this change anything?"

For the path you are meant to follow is the path you are already walking.

The question about the meaning of life is thrilling, mysterious and alluring. But the answer is simple, stupid and disappointing. It's like the question of what makes the world so beautiful and harmonic? And the answer is just a bunch of numbers. Or how do you learn to live with anxiety, depression, phobias, sleep disorders and the like? Simply let go. The answer is expected to be astonishing, thought provoking and marvellous. And all there is, is something you shrug at. A disappointment.

I ask myself "was it even worth it?" all those years of searching for my purpose. No... or maybe it was, I don't know. But it certainly was a disappointment. Much like most people I expected something amazing, something that would change my life or at least my view on life. But if I know so much, what really is my purpose? To know more. What kind of idea of a joke is that!? The message is simply that I can never get enough knowledge and understanding, and I'm here to fill in the gaps. I hate and can't stand humans, yet I'm here to understand them. To live among them and learn as much as I can about them.

Cause what if you don't like what the great beyond has set out for you? What if you don't want to walk that path, and there's no way to escape it? It's the fucking meaning of your life, it is why you are here. Would you really want to know? Would you...?

Cause I hate my fucking purpose.