I Don't Even Know What I'm Doing... || Memoir Writing || WIP, Unfinished.
Strip away the flesh and bone... Look beyond the lies you've known. Everybody wants to talk about a freak, no one wants to dig that deep. Let me take you underneath... Baby, better watch your step. Nevermind what's on the left. You're gonna see things you might not wanna see, still not that easy for me underneath...
I don't know where to start at all. I know it's been forever since I've fucking touched or written in this journal. I don't even know if anyone's watching this still--or even cares. But that's beside that point. The point is, I needed an outlet to get all my whirlwind of chaos and fuck-knows what else that's swirling and twirling inside of me out and try to make some goddamned sense of it.
And maybe even if I can't right now, I'll be able to come back to it and try again. Because I'm going nowhere just looking at the whole of my life through a first person view. I'm so tired at my core, I don't even have the goddamned energy to make the effort to Freudian or Jungian analyze my own Bullshit right now.
So... *sigh* Let's see.
My life isn't ideal, I've fucking known this for ages. I'm nowhere near the mark or expectation I had once set for myself--and never will be. I never figured I'd be in a condition that I would never be able to really work, or drive or any of those things. I had always pictured myself being some self-sustaining techie with a good job, with a good eduation under my belt, and making my family proud.
Didn't turn out that way, unfortunately. I've not passed the GED course, I'm too stupid. No job will hire me because my latent Mental Illnesses and Learning Disabilities popped up at the middle point of my teens and decided to rear their ugly heads and ensure that no job will want me because of my ADD, my high learning curve and inability to adapt to frequent change and lack of being able to handle pressure and being put on the spot.
A red river of screams underneath. Tears in my eyes underneath. Stars in my black and blue sky. And underneath, under my skin. Underneath the depths of my sin. Look at me, now do you see...? Welcome to my world of truth... I don't want to hide any part of me from you... I'm standing here with no apologies, such a beautiful release--you inside of me.
Now I'm living with my grandparents, feeling like a fucking deadweight bum. Mom died--and at a time when we were mad at one another and not on speaking terms. My fucking aunt and uncle and four children are living here too, and it's goddamned chaotic in so many toxic ways. All of us clash and it's all I can do at times to not have a mental or emotional breakdown from all the shit that goes on. I also found out my expected lifespan left from doctors. And then I have my spiritual shit to deal with, too.
I mean, I don't even like how I'm sounding like I'm complaining when, "I don't really have anything to complain about". Yes, I'm being fed, clothed, have a roof over my head, family, ect. And I can't explain it. I can't pinpoint a goddamned point where it all went bad, and even looking at it in a bird's eye view... Gods, it's painful to say, and it hurts in a way I can't just...describe. Looking at it from a bird's eye view with utmost clarity, I can say for a fact: For as long as I've been aware of the problems and shit in my family, there has always been some kind of sludge or toxic situation. No wonder I never had a goddamned childhood. I grew up so fast. I've said this before.But it's true. I've been aware of the world, things beyond any normal child's comprehension--feelings, sensations, words that I should not have understood, but did. Or, if I didn't know an exact term or know how to describe it, I still innately understood what it meant, and later learned what the meaning/term was.
Money Issues. Loneliness. Despair and depression. Fear. Intuition that spanned years beyond my then-three year old brain. My vocabulary was nothing to scoff at, either. I was already talking like a fucking adult then. I always did my goddamned best to be the bright little angel to keep my family happy. I tried so hard to never let my own things get in the way of helping them. I never asked for much--only the essentials and sometimes a small toy or gum/candy. I... All I wanted was to take care of them. Why...did life and things have to go so horribly wrong?
Why did I have to be born in this weak, genetically misfit body? Why did I have to find out all the crap I had and have such life-altering decisions made for me? ...Also...
Why was I meant to endure such emotional turmoil?
From a young age, I was aware of my own mother's illnesses and was exposed to them. I feared and loved her. I never knew when she was having a lucid day unless she approached me herself, and so much emotional scarring was left on me from that shit. ...The trauma of her nearly killing herself twice, her beating me with a brush and giving me mixed messages of "I hate you, you're a bad girl!" to "I'm so sorry, forgive me, I love you so much!" ...How I managed to retain my naivity, purity, and innocence is well beyond my reckoning and reasoning now. But somehow, I did. That changed about the time I hit eleven...
I don't wanna die out here in the valley, waiting for my luck to change... I just want my dad to know that I finally made it... Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. Everybody gets bruised, everybody gets sold. I don't wanna die out here in the valley. You don't have to lie, I know that's what I'll do. I don't want my mom to know that I never loved my life and I sold my soul...
Valentine's Day, 2001.
That day marked the end of my innocence, naivity, and purity. It unleashed a catastrophic force of chaos and despair that brought on a personal Apocalypse. At the tender age of 10 (nearly 11) I was dealt a self-shattering emotional blow in the form of some of my cousins being murdered. I shut down and went completely numb. Nothing felt real. I felt as if I were in a bubble and nothing sank in. It didn't sink in until I went to the open visitation and saw them all in their caskets... It was still so surreal. My eyes were playing tricks on me, making me think they were breathing and were gonna pop up, yell "SURPRISE!" and life would continue like it had.
...But the illusion never came true. How is a 10 year old supposed to cope and deal with such shit? Seriously. Tell me, what child has the capacity to understand such sorrow, despair, and pain at that age when they have never faced any sort of hardship and learned to cope? I sure as hell had never had anything like that happen before. I didn't know how to cope or handle it.
Perhaps what drives the whole statement of "Misery comes in twos" to a perfect example is: No more than a few months later, Oh... I want to say about June or July, I met a girl who became my best friend and had me recovering. Her name was Amanda--we shared the same name. We had so many things in common and had so much fun. The emotional wound was healing as the days went by. She was the first person I had ever met in my young life that felt as if I had known her for ages. My soul resonated with her in a way that, to this day, I still can't entirely describe. If I had to take a guess? I think she was someone I had loved or been with in a prior life. It was her, even at my young age of eleven and she at ten, that we were able to discover we viewed the world entirely different from the rest of the people in it. Or so we thought. How we both could see beauty and handsomeness in either gender, even back then, how we thought love was love, it didn't matter if it was heterosexual, homosexual, ect. If it wasn't for her and our conversations back then, I surely would never have been able to accept the transgender aspect to myself.
She was so caring, loving, and always told me "I think it's so cool you're a guy on the inside. Because you'll always protect me even if you've got a girl body! No one will mess with you and you'll always understand me because you've got a girl body too!" Which is...entirely true. I was instilled with so many lessons from my family--but the ones that stuck the most to me were my grandfathers and surrogate father's. "Protect the people closest to you, respect is something you give freely and only take away when someone proves they don't deserve it. Be compassionate and understanding, you don't need to have brute strength to be strong." Those kinds of things. I would always (and still do) get pissed off when people would say Chivalry was dead or obsolete. Take a look at my damned family and say that again.
Digressing, I strove to be that for her. Her (female) Knight in Shining Armor. To protect her, and we were happy. I daresay if it hadn't have been for her inadverdantly helping me realize my own unique position about my body and personality I would have continued to live in denial and reject my transgender-self and not even acknowledge my bisexual aspect to myself. Truly, she was the first person to blurr the fine line in terms of what society would say of "Love your opposite gender, don't love the same sex", "You are what your body is. If you were born female, you're a goddamned female." How she never cared about these things and always encouraged me that I was the best no matter what I was.
It was because of her support and care and stuff that when I found out all this medical shit was happening to me that I could at least temporarily push it aside and not feel burdened and like I was going to just crack. She'd come with me to my doctors appointments and stuff and would hold my hand when they'd draw my blood cause at the time I still had my phobia of needles, they'd let her stay in the room if I had MRI's and let her talk to me during the breaks in the machine noise because I have claustrophobia and they didn't have the Open MRI machines at that place.
All in all, she was God's blessing to me during those parts.
Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. Everybody gets bruised, everybody gets sold. Everybody gets dark, everybody unfolds. Everybody gets high, everybody gets so low... And everyone's eyes are blue, and everyone's mouth is dry. And nobody wants to die in Van Nuys, Van Nuys... Well, you don't know how to get back to your crawlspace. Underneath the dirt, and the dust, and the waste. But the sun sets fast these days...
Well, I said tragedy would strike twice and it did...
Sometime in November, just after Halloween... My grandma came in to inform me sadly that Amanda, and her younger brother, Christopher had been taken away by the state. They found out that their father had been sexually molesting her and her brother--their mother wanted nothing to do with them and couldn't keep them anyway cause she was living with an ex-convict and the state law prohibits them living with criminals and all. So... I never saw her again. My heart was ripped out and I sobbed.
I sobbed, because I'd failed to protect her.
She had stayed with me Halloween and the day after, and I had felt something was wrong. I'd ask, and sometimes she'd get this haunted look on her face and in her eyes, but would just smile, shake her head and say it was alright. I felt--and still do--that if I had simply pushed a little harder, she would have told me. That evening, when she was going home, she hugged me so tight and clung. I could almost feel a desperation there, but didn't understand it. I didn't want to let go, either. But I smiled at her, pushed her hair out of her face (she had long stringy hair that went everywhere and was always in her face) and told her I'd see her in a day or two.
...And I never did. And it still fucking hurts. There are so many things I still wish I could have told her, things we could have done... And I feel as if I failed in every aspect and promise I'd ever made to her. To have lost someone who fit inside of my heart and soul like a missing puzzle piece and completed me in ways I still can't even say--you don't fucking know how that feels. At all. Sure, everyone--especially fucking women--make the whole exclamations, "You don't understand! They were my soul mate!" Bitches, fucking please. Most of those whores and bitches don't even know the true meaning of the word 'Soul mate' or even know the feeling it brings! No, a soul mate is someone who completes you, who you feel you've known for ages, someone who accepts, understands, looks past everything that you are--flaws and faults and strengths, and will still tell you, you're fucking beautiful as you are. Until you've met someone who does that, you have no right to claim anyone is your soul mate.
Wish for you on a falling star, wondering where you are. Do I ever cross your mind in the warm sunshine? She's from the City of Angels like Betty Davis, James Dean, and Gable. Never know what she means to me, I fell for the girl that's on TV...
She always told me she wanted to go to Hollywood and be an actress. Though we were both realists even then and she'd just giggle and say "Yeah, can you see me? An actress with crappy teeth that fold over one another, eyes are that off, and my icky skin?" I'd laugh along with her and reply "Yeah, what about me? My fat body, my unibrow, heee, even my weird chameleon like skin!" and we'd burst into giggles. But that was the statement, her dream. She'd wanted to be an actress even though she knew she never would be. It was a dream I never tried to shatter, or say she couldn't. I'd always tell her "You'll always be a star in my eyes regardless if you make the red carpet or not or have a Star on the boardwalk." I'm not romanticizing or up-playing the words I've said or even trying to put it in such a romantic light, back then, we were older than our years, but still innocent at the core in many ways. Sure, we knew what sex and love and all that crap was, but it wasn't like that. It was... We knew one another. Utterly. Wholly. Inside and out, anything we said was understood in the way it was meant to be taken. She was a star in my eyes and I loved her for it.
I don't know where to start at all. I know it's been forever since I've fucking touched or written in this journal. I don't even know if anyone's watching this still--or even cares. But that's beside that point. The point is, I needed an outlet to get all my whirlwind of chaos and fuck-knows what else that's swirling and twirling inside of me out and try to make some goddamned sense of it.
And maybe even if I can't right now, I'll be able to come back to it and try again. Because I'm going nowhere just looking at the whole of my life through a first person view. I'm so tired at my core, I don't even have the goddamned energy to make the effort to Freudian or Jungian analyze my own Bullshit right now.
So... *sigh* Let's see.
My life isn't ideal, I've fucking known this for ages. I'm nowhere near the mark or expectation I had once set for myself--and never will be. I never figured I'd be in a condition that I would never be able to really work, or drive or any of those things. I had always pictured myself being some self-sustaining techie with a good job, with a good eduation under my belt, and making my family proud.
Didn't turn out that way, unfortunately. I've not passed the GED course, I'm too stupid. No job will hire me because my latent Mental Illnesses and Learning Disabilities popped up at the middle point of my teens and decided to rear their ugly heads and ensure that no job will want me because of my ADD, my high learning curve and inability to adapt to frequent change and lack of being able to handle pressure and being put on the spot.
A red river of screams underneath. Tears in my eyes underneath. Stars in my black and blue sky. And underneath, under my skin. Underneath the depths of my sin. Look at me, now do you see...? Welcome to my world of truth... I don't want to hide any part of me from you... I'm standing here with no apologies, such a beautiful release--you inside of me.
Now I'm living with my grandparents, feeling like a fucking deadweight bum. Mom died--and at a time when we were mad at one another and not on speaking terms. My fucking aunt and uncle and four children are living here too, and it's goddamned chaotic in so many toxic ways. All of us clash and it's all I can do at times to not have a mental or emotional breakdown from all the shit that goes on. I also found out my expected lifespan left from doctors. And then I have my spiritual shit to deal with, too.
I mean, I don't even like how I'm sounding like I'm complaining when, "I don't really have anything to complain about". Yes, I'm being fed, clothed, have a roof over my head, family, ect. And I can't explain it. I can't pinpoint a goddamned point where it all went bad, and even looking at it in a bird's eye view... Gods, it's painful to say, and it hurts in a way I can't just...describe. Looking at it from a bird's eye view with utmost clarity, I can say for a fact: For as long as I've been aware of the problems and shit in my family, there has always been some kind of sludge or toxic situation. No wonder I never had a goddamned childhood. I grew up so fast. I've said this before.But it's true. I've been aware of the world, things beyond any normal child's comprehension--feelings, sensations, words that I should not have understood, but did. Or, if I didn't know an exact term or know how to describe it, I still innately understood what it meant, and later learned what the meaning/term was.
Money Issues. Loneliness. Despair and depression. Fear. Intuition that spanned years beyond my then-three year old brain. My vocabulary was nothing to scoff at, either. I was already talking like a fucking adult then. I always did my goddamned best to be the bright little angel to keep my family happy. I tried so hard to never let my own things get in the way of helping them. I never asked for much--only the essentials and sometimes a small toy or gum/candy. I... All I wanted was to take care of them. Why...did life and things have to go so horribly wrong?
Why did I have to be born in this weak, genetically misfit body? Why did I have to find out all the crap I had and have such life-altering decisions made for me? ...Also...
Why was I meant to endure such emotional turmoil?
From a young age, I was aware of my own mother's illnesses and was exposed to them. I feared and loved her. I never knew when she was having a lucid day unless she approached me herself, and so much emotional scarring was left on me from that shit. ...The trauma of her nearly killing herself twice, her beating me with a brush and giving me mixed messages of "I hate you, you're a bad girl!" to "I'm so sorry, forgive me, I love you so much!" ...How I managed to retain my naivity, purity, and innocence is well beyond my reckoning and reasoning now. But somehow, I did. That changed about the time I hit eleven...
I don't wanna die out here in the valley, waiting for my luck to change... I just want my dad to know that I finally made it... Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. Everybody gets bruised, everybody gets sold. I don't wanna die out here in the valley. You don't have to lie, I know that's what I'll do. I don't want my mom to know that I never loved my life and I sold my soul...
Valentine's Day, 2001.
That day marked the end of my innocence, naivity, and purity. It unleashed a catastrophic force of chaos and despair that brought on a personal Apocalypse. At the tender age of 10 (nearly 11) I was dealt a self-shattering emotional blow in the form of some of my cousins being murdered. I shut down and went completely numb. Nothing felt real. I felt as if I were in a bubble and nothing sank in. It didn't sink in until I went to the open visitation and saw them all in their caskets... It was still so surreal. My eyes were playing tricks on me, making me think they were breathing and were gonna pop up, yell "SURPRISE!" and life would continue like it had.
...But the illusion never came true. How is a 10 year old supposed to cope and deal with such shit? Seriously. Tell me, what child has the capacity to understand such sorrow, despair, and pain at that age when they have never faced any sort of hardship and learned to cope? I sure as hell had never had anything like that happen before. I didn't know how to cope or handle it.
Perhaps what drives the whole statement of "Misery comes in twos" to a perfect example is: No more than a few months later, Oh... I want to say about June or July, I met a girl who became my best friend and had me recovering. Her name was Amanda--we shared the same name. We had so many things in common and had so much fun. The emotional wound was healing as the days went by. She was the first person I had ever met in my young life that felt as if I had known her for ages. My soul resonated with her in a way that, to this day, I still can't entirely describe. If I had to take a guess? I think she was someone I had loved or been with in a prior life. It was her, even at my young age of eleven and she at ten, that we were able to discover we viewed the world entirely different from the rest of the people in it. Or so we thought. How we both could see beauty and handsomeness in either gender, even back then, how we thought love was love, it didn't matter if it was heterosexual, homosexual, ect. If it wasn't for her and our conversations back then, I surely would never have been able to accept the transgender aspect to myself.
She was so caring, loving, and always told me "I think it's so cool you're a guy on the inside. Because you'll always protect me even if you've got a girl body! No one will mess with you and you'll always understand me because you've got a girl body too!" Which is...entirely true. I was instilled with so many lessons from my family--but the ones that stuck the most to me were my grandfathers and surrogate father's. "Protect the people closest to you, respect is something you give freely and only take away when someone proves they don't deserve it. Be compassionate and understanding, you don't need to have brute strength to be strong." Those kinds of things. I would always (and still do) get pissed off when people would say Chivalry was dead or obsolete. Take a look at my damned family and say that again.
Digressing, I strove to be that for her. Her (female) Knight in Shining Armor. To protect her, and we were happy. I daresay if it hadn't have been for her inadverdantly helping me realize my own unique position about my body and personality I would have continued to live in denial and reject my transgender-self and not even acknowledge my bisexual aspect to myself. Truly, she was the first person to blurr the fine line in terms of what society would say of "Love your opposite gender, don't love the same sex", "You are what your body is. If you were born female, you're a goddamned female." How she never cared about these things and always encouraged me that I was the best no matter what I was.
It was because of her support and care and stuff that when I found out all this medical shit was happening to me that I could at least temporarily push it aside and not feel burdened and like I was going to just crack. She'd come with me to my doctors appointments and stuff and would hold my hand when they'd draw my blood cause at the time I still had my phobia of needles, they'd let her stay in the room if I had MRI's and let her talk to me during the breaks in the machine noise because I have claustrophobia and they didn't have the Open MRI machines at that place.
All in all, she was God's blessing to me during those parts.
Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. Everybody gets bruised, everybody gets sold. Everybody gets dark, everybody unfolds. Everybody gets high, everybody gets so low... And everyone's eyes are blue, and everyone's mouth is dry. And nobody wants to die in Van Nuys, Van Nuys... Well, you don't know how to get back to your crawlspace. Underneath the dirt, and the dust, and the waste. But the sun sets fast these days...
Well, I said tragedy would strike twice and it did...
Sometime in November, just after Halloween... My grandma came in to inform me sadly that Amanda, and her younger brother, Christopher had been taken away by the state. They found out that their father had been sexually molesting her and her brother--their mother wanted nothing to do with them and couldn't keep them anyway cause she was living with an ex-convict and the state law prohibits them living with criminals and all. So... I never saw her again. My heart was ripped out and I sobbed.
I sobbed, because I'd failed to protect her.
She had stayed with me Halloween and the day after, and I had felt something was wrong. I'd ask, and sometimes she'd get this haunted look on her face and in her eyes, but would just smile, shake her head and say it was alright. I felt--and still do--that if I had simply pushed a little harder, she would have told me. That evening, when she was going home, she hugged me so tight and clung. I could almost feel a desperation there, but didn't understand it. I didn't want to let go, either. But I smiled at her, pushed her hair out of her face (she had long stringy hair that went everywhere and was always in her face) and told her I'd see her in a day or two.
...And I never did. And it still fucking hurts. There are so many things I still wish I could have told her, things we could have done... And I feel as if I failed in every aspect and promise I'd ever made to her. To have lost someone who fit inside of my heart and soul like a missing puzzle piece and completed me in ways I still can't even say--you don't fucking know how that feels. At all. Sure, everyone--especially fucking women--make the whole exclamations, "You don't understand! They were my soul mate!" Bitches, fucking please. Most of those whores and bitches don't even know the true meaning of the word 'Soul mate' or even know the feeling it brings! No, a soul mate is someone who completes you, who you feel you've known for ages, someone who accepts, understands, looks past everything that you are--flaws and faults and strengths, and will still tell you, you're fucking beautiful as you are. Until you've met someone who does that, you have no right to claim anyone is your soul mate.
Wish for you on a falling star, wondering where you are. Do I ever cross your mind in the warm sunshine? She's from the City of Angels like Betty Davis, James Dean, and Gable. Never know what she means to me, I fell for the girl that's on TV...
She always told me she wanted to go to Hollywood and be an actress. Though we were both realists even then and she'd just giggle and say "Yeah, can you see me? An actress with crappy teeth that fold over one another, eyes are that off, and my icky skin?" I'd laugh along with her and reply "Yeah, what about me? My fat body, my unibrow, heee, even my weird chameleon like skin!" and we'd burst into giggles. But that was the statement, her dream. She'd wanted to be an actress even though she knew she never would be. It was a dream I never tried to shatter, or say she couldn't. I'd always tell her "You'll always be a star in my eyes regardless if you make the red carpet or not or have a Star on the boardwalk." I'm not romanticizing or up-playing the words I've said or even trying to put it in such a romantic light, back then, we were older than our years, but still innocent at the core in many ways. Sure, we knew what sex and love and all that crap was, but it wasn't like that. It was... We knew one another. Utterly. Wholly. Inside and out, anything we said was understood in the way it was meant to be taken. She was a star in my eyes and I loved her for it.