[ten] Scene Unseen
Sep. 20th, 2010 01:28 amI keep trying to have the talk with my parents, a talk that needs very much to be had. The urge keeps coming on. My mind keeps phrasing things and rephrasing them all of its own volition. But every time I think "I'll do it. I'm going to do it." something comes up, something happens, and I put it off yet again because "now is not the time." It will happen eventually, it will happen soon, but now is not the time.
I am so tired. I am trying so hard to fix my life and move forward and the energy it takes is just ridiculous. I've finally figured out what I want to do with myself between now and the day when I can hopefully actually get somewhere with my writing. I'm even going back to school in January to further that goal, getting my AAS in Baking and Pastry Arts so I can have that experience and knowledge under my belt. I am long since done with taking shit. It is currently impossible for me to survive on what is meant to be my primary source of income, therefore it is time for me to find a new one. Just because I understand why they have to cut hours doesn't mean that I can live with it.
I am so much further along in my transition privately than I am publicly and I hate that fact. I have finally come to the point where I can look in the mirror and see what I feel rather than what I'm told to be but I know that the world and even most people in my life still see me according to social expectation. I am making the transition into the use of male pronouns. My girlfriend uses them, her friends use them, the only other friend I talk to on an almost daily basis does her best to use them. My sister is more likely these days to somewhat awkwardly refer to me as her brother, as my pets' "dad", as my girlfriend's boyfriend. I have an entire group of friends with whom I am completely stealth, though I've grown so close to some of them these days that I regularly contemplate (and inevitably chicken out of) sharing my dark secret. From my point of view, I have never once lied to them but I can't control how they would interpret the admission and that frightens me.
I am That Boy. I am J. I am Patcha. I am Otto. I am. Jsem.
I am tired of being seen as anything else.
Some day I am going to marry this girl that I have been so indescribably lucky as to have found. It will not be today. It will not be tomorrow. It will not be next week, next month or even next year. Because anyone who truly knows me can tell you that, when I set my mind to it, I am as stubborn as the earth in its determination to turn and I will not settle for anything less than what I deserve and lord knows I will not settle in this. I will not settle for stepping out in someone else's shoes to get a piece of paper that the majority of this country and this world refuses to recognize. What's the point? I don't need the paper to know what I feel. I need it to find vindication. That is not vindication I see there. But when my driver's license reads my real name and that little "f" becomes an "m" and people have no choice but to recognize my stupid, little piece of paper wherever they would recognize that same sort of stupid paper which was issued to my parents, when I can be myself without the constant reminders that, in the eyes of the majority, my claim to humanity is invalid, when only the people who knew me before ever have to know the difference? Then, for me, that will be my vindication.
To each his own and this is mine.
Amen
I am so tired. I am trying so hard to fix my life and move forward and the energy it takes is just ridiculous. I've finally figured out what I want to do with myself between now and the day when I can hopefully actually get somewhere with my writing. I'm even going back to school in January to further that goal, getting my AAS in Baking and Pastry Arts so I can have that experience and knowledge under my belt. I am long since done with taking shit. It is currently impossible for me to survive on what is meant to be my primary source of income, therefore it is time for me to find a new one. Just because I understand why they have to cut hours doesn't mean that I can live with it.
I am so much further along in my transition privately than I am publicly and I hate that fact. I have finally come to the point where I can look in the mirror and see what I feel rather than what I'm told to be but I know that the world and even most people in my life still see me according to social expectation. I am making the transition into the use of male pronouns. My girlfriend uses them, her friends use them, the only other friend I talk to on an almost daily basis does her best to use them. My sister is more likely these days to somewhat awkwardly refer to me as her brother, as my pets' "dad", as my girlfriend's boyfriend. I have an entire group of friends with whom I am completely stealth, though I've grown so close to some of them these days that I regularly contemplate (and inevitably chicken out of) sharing my dark secret. From my point of view, I have never once lied to them but I can't control how they would interpret the admission and that frightens me.
I am That Boy. I am J. I am Patcha. I am Otto. I am. Jsem.
I am tired of being seen as anything else.
Some day I am going to marry this girl that I have been so indescribably lucky as to have found. It will not be today. It will not be tomorrow. It will not be next week, next month or even next year. Because anyone who truly knows me can tell you that, when I set my mind to it, I am as stubborn as the earth in its determination to turn and I will not settle for anything less than what I deserve and lord knows I will not settle in this. I will not settle for stepping out in someone else's shoes to get a piece of paper that the majority of this country and this world refuses to recognize. What's the point? I don't need the paper to know what I feel. I need it to find vindication. That is not vindication I see there. But when my driver's license reads my real name and that little "f" becomes an "m" and people have no choice but to recognize my stupid, little piece of paper wherever they would recognize that same sort of stupid paper which was issued to my parents, when I can be myself without the constant reminders that, in the eyes of the majority, my claim to humanity is invalid, when only the people who knew me before ever have to know the difference? Then, for me, that will be my vindication.
To each his own and this is mine.
Amen
