everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.


the other day i went out to get coffee with londyn. afterwards we headed to a local park and lied down on the grass and talked. she said something about how she was glad that none of her male friends were hitting on her even though she was lonely, and my heart sank. she said that she didn't think anyone would ever love her, and i told her that she was pretty and i'm sure that somebody would. she smiled and said that she thought that somebody would love me too, that someday we'd both find someone.

i had this dream the other night. me and my family were staying at this house, but it was located in a hurricane prone area and it was nearly destroyed multiple times. we had to move to this barn which was creepy and dilapidated. i considered doing a photoshoot in the field behind the barn where i would wear a wedding dress covered in blood.

my mother kept telling me "you need to take a shower because you're a woman." i went through the cupboards searching for a bar of soap because there was none in the shower (all of the bars of soap had these weird labels with what looked like grotesque caricature drawings printed on them, and so did these chocolate coins that were also stored in the cupboards). i think i ended up choosing the sandalwood scented one. i somehow tracked down the owners of the barn on social media, and their daughter was this jewish goth chick, which would explain the chocolate coins.

i went down to the basement and discovered that this gay dude from my history class, jack, was hosting a party there without my knowledge. everyone there was holding a bottle of calypso lemonade. he was wearing women's jeans and a crop top like usual. i remember thinking "jack can do shit like this and get away with it because he's a cool, good looking guy. he can do shit like this and everybody will still love him. i can't." weirdly enough i had a dream in the past where i encountered this demon who was also named jack.


we had to form different groups of four in class for a project and two separate groups (a group of dudes and a group consisting of two girls and one ftm) asked me to join them. i flipped a coin to decide and went with the latter. i beat myself up over it because i feel like i'm depriving myself of male socialization. i want to be "one of the guys" so badly. god i'm so fucking brainwormed it hurts. i'm trying to stop thinking about shit in terms of "gender" and start thinking about it in terms of sex dysphoria (i.e. putting aside the labels to focus on the physical reality of what i want) but it feels impossible to unlearn years upon years of gender stereotypes.


i saw londyn today. she said something about how we should go bowling together - the four of us. she smiles, she tells me about how much she hates her ex-boyfriends, she laughs at my jokes, but she couldn't make it clearer that she doesn't like me if she tried. i don't even know if i like her either, or if i just desperately want someone, anyone.

i collected seaglass and handed the pieces to her one by one. she left the pieces on the ground instead of taking them with her. it crushed me. i kept every origami animal that she gave me.

i spend so much time lamenting over being lonely, and yet when i spend time with anyone i can't enjoy myself because i'm so terrified that they don't love me enough.


asked londyn if she wanted to grab some coffee together this weekend and she said yes. i was wary of asking her out at first because i know she's only into guys but i thought that maybe she wouldn't mind since she is a tgirl herself. i'm worried that she doesn't like me and she's just doing this to be nice. she seemed nervous when i asked her out, and she's kind of a dry texter. fingers crossed i'll somehow find a way to make this work.

i used to think it would get easier with time. sex, that is. not even sex necessarily, general intimacy too. it's only gotten harder over the years. i crave touch so badly - the idea of it, at least - but when someone actually does it i recoil into my shell like a pillbug. i can fuck as many people as i want, but i can't unfuck him. i can't wash the taste of him out of my mouth. i've never considered myself a sexual abuse victim. i was 11, but he was 13. if he's a sexual predator than i am too - i dated a 14 year old when i was freshly 16.

sometimes it seems easier to isolate myself than to be rejected or inevitably abandoned. trying and failing is so much more painful than not trying at all.


so today i realized that i'm probably not eligible for keyhole top surgery. i'm doomed to opt for double incision top surgery, which will leave me with disfiguring scars reminding me of what i am every time i look down at my chest that will remain there until the day i die, or be stuck with these tumours. i slouch all the time unconsciously to make my chest look flatter, and ironically i look shorter because of it, which makes my dysphoria even worse.

jeremiah wants to go out into the city and buy shrooms. i think they would do me good. i should ask caeden if he wants to hang out sometime but i need to think of something to actually do. men don't really go out on platonic dates with each other the way women do. it's a gamble, the group of men he wants to hang out with will all have to tolerate my freakishness.

i get that therapists are supposed to challenge your thought process but i swear to god this new therapist either hates me, thinks i'm a deranged sociopath, or both. she told me that she thinks i'm "obsessed with controlling and manipulating other people" and that i'm a hypocrite who judges people without knowing even though i hate it when they do that to me. she says i've made no progress and that "every day is like groundhog day." i started laughing while i was talking about lulu because i have a habit of laughing nervously when i'm uncomfortable, and she started laughing too. when i told her i believe that i made everything up and convinced myself that she abused me when she really didn't, she applauded me for "being capable of realizing that."

oftentimes i actually get more socially anxious when no one is around than i do when i'm surrounded by people. when i'm out and about, i'm always on guard to varying degrees but when i'm alone my cortisol levels don't decrease and my brain is still firing signals at me telling me that danger is afoot. i'm scared of my own shadow. my mind sees predators where there are none, and there are no actual threats around to distract me so i'm just left to my own devices, alone with my thoughts. a lot of my problems are rooted in my inability to establish a sense of self separate from how others perceive me and the existential anguish i experience knowing i can't read anyone else's thoughts (i wouldn't even care that people hated me if they had the balls to just tell exactly what it is they find so off putting about me) but i think that if i were to reach deep down even further i'd realize my greatest fear is being alone.


jeremiah called me 3 times yesterday. i ignored him the first 2 times but finally gave in and picked up the third time around. he called me again today, i declined the call. not even a minute later i get a message saying "i know you see this, quit acting like a celebrity." he's become obsessed with me. he feeds of negative energy like a vampire. he could call up any one of the ten million married men he's fucking and receive an endless stream of validation, attention, and semen from them but it's not enough for him because i've told him too much about myself and now he's constantly trying to fuck with me and mess with my head. a lot of this is just projection and i know that - he wishes he was white so he makes fun of me for being pale, he wishes he was still as skinny as he was when he was a model so he calls me fat even though i'm much thinner than him, etc.

i hate how every single aspect of my life has been affected by my gender dysphoria. i actually had fun today playing monopoly with a bunch of dudes today, but i couldn't stop obsessing over whether they saw me as "one of the guys" or not. when i hang out with men i feel dysphoric because i'm putting up a farce. when i hang out with women i feel dysphoric because men don't hang out with women. i'm starting to think i have tocd because i'm so terrified of actually transitioning, even though it's all i think about. the possibility of being unable to make friends after transitioning terrifies me. i already freak out a lot of women, so i can't imagine how they'd react to me if i was actually born male. my sense of style and my interests are considered unacceptable for a woman to have, let alone a man. i get anxious even seeing a group of normies across the street regardless of their gender. there are certain types of people who do accept me on a superficial level, but there's always a catch. even some gay men, lesbians, and transsexuals seem wary of me. maybe they think i'm a theyfab or something. there's this one ftm in my class and i swear him and his annoying giggly girlfriend always snicker when i walk by. theyfabs are nice to me for the most part, a little too nice to me even, but they treat me more like an accessory than a friend. whereas normal people don't want to be seen in public with me, theatre gays ONLY want to be seen in public with me. they want to have a "gay looking" friend group. they also have clearly never experienced gender dysphoria as evidenced by them telling the trans woman in our social circle that they're jealous of how tall she is (i don't know how these people manage to be more comically evil than conservatives unintentionally). plus, i couldn't give less of a fuck about steven universe, frogs, fungi, pop punk, will wood, or any of the shit that they gush over. i'm glad i have at least one dude in my life who's actually into the same stuff i'm into and is willing to listen to me sperg out about depressive suicidal black metal or some j-horror film no one's ever heard about. sucks that he obviously just sees me as a "school friend", if that. it's easier for me to bond with people over our shared hatred of things than our mutual love of them because my interest are so niche and that leads to a lot of toxic non-sexual relationships.

when i think about this shit too hard i want to kill myself. even when nobody is around i still perform for an imaginary audience. think that one scene in "being john malkovich." i police my own thoughts. everything takes so much effort. putting in the work to maintain a friendship, trying to perfect this hopeless balancing act of "expressing myself" within the limitations of how much society will actually let me express myself without being deemed irredeemably subhuman, even suicide itself. people always ask me why i present myself the way i do if i hate being treated differently, and the answer is that i feel equally as miserable if i don't express myself. if i do express myself, i get relentlessly harassed and mocked for it. if i don't express myself, i feel like i'm dying on the inside and i'm overwhelmed with jealousy when i see another person who has the confidence to express themselves. it's funny because i constantly get "it's not halloween anymore" jokes, but i feel more like i'm wearing a costume when i'm dressed like a normal person. i have no internal sense of self. i let myself be defined by others. when woketards ask me about my pronouns i say "any." i changed my name to a gender neutral one as a compromise because of my parents and now i'm afraid to change it back to a male one because i'm afraid of being seen as a trendhopper and i'm not prepared to deal with the social repercussions of being openly trans all over again. i make self-deprecating jokes to gain the approval of conservatives who would otherwise despise me. i miss everything about myself that i used to despise, all the things i prayed god to change about me. i still feel all the things i felt when i was 11 but i know better than to express my feelings now. i'm emotionally castrated. if 11 year old me could have known that i still dwell over everything that they did to me every second of every day he would be so disappointed. i go to bed every night hoping that i'll forget it all in the morning, but every time i wake up all the memories come rushing back like a floodgate opened in my mind. i wonder if i would still turn out bitter if i could wipe the slate clean and start fresh from now onwards. lately i've been feeling like a dog in heat, i'm so desperate to fuck anyone or anything that my brain is trying to trick me into wanting to fuck people who i would find ugly under any other circumstance. when i get horny it's like something possesses me and i become an entirely different person. my english teacher is this middle aged woman with fully white hair (with a purple streak in it, she's kind of a "cool wine aunt" type) and she leaned over my desk and kind of got up in my face to explain an assignment to me today. i nearly started frothing at the mouth because i wanted to fuck her so bad in that moment. when it was over it was kind of like coming down from a high and i had post-nut clarity despite not even having masturbated.


my mother knocked on my door today and asked if she could come in. i said yes. she explained that she had been thinking about me because i've been sick and she told me that i should take care of myself. she hugged in this way where she put my hands on my hips and i couldn't help but feel instantly repulsed. i felt guilty. i should let myself be embraced. someday she won't be here anymore and then i'll miss her. i can tolerating existing in this body when i don't think about it all, but then something like this will happen where i'll get jolted back to reality and i'm forced to reconcile with my physical form. i remember when i was dressing more femininely for a period of time and i would bash my head against the wall because no matter what i did i could never see myself as a pretty girl. i felt like a man in a dress. i would go out dressed in women's clothes from head to toe and still bind my chest. dressing more like a woman actually eased the dysphoria somewhat - not entirely, but somewhat - because i wasn't trying so hard to pass as something i wasn't.

i know i'm bisexual but i feel like i'll never be able to fuck a man ever again. earlier this year i met this guy and i thought i liked him, but the second he touched me i felt something like a shockwave of repulsion ripple throughout my entire body. i typically want to fuck men that look like a male version of myself, but just looking at them makes me seethe with rage because they were gifted with something i can never have. i don't even know if i can fuck a woman. the thought of using my genitals in a sexual situation makes me sick, i can only perform acts on others. i don't know if this will ever go away, and if it is a result of unresolved sexual trauma or gender dysphoria or both. it seems to only get worse as the years go on.

my mother noticed that there was a pack of cigarettes on my bedside table and confronted me about it. i explained that my friend lended me to them to use as a prop in a short film i was acting in, and she said she believed me. i went on a walk, came back, then my father almost immediately accused me of going on a walk just so that i could smoke. my mother will do this thing where she'll accuse me of doing something i didn't do, i'll explain myself to her, she'll tell me that she believes me, and then she'll go tell my dad and he'll immediately accuse me of doing the thing again, operating under the assumption that i did do it.


too exhausted to write about this in detail but i saw this video that reminded me of an interaction with my mother i had and i just broke down and cried. my mother used to always ask me why i "couldn't just be a butch lesbian." eventually i desisted and just accepted the "butch lesbian" label. one day i was supposed to go out to dinner with my family. i put on the same clothes i always do. she asked me why i couldn't just wear a dress, something "nice." she told me that i "look like someone who doesn't take care of themselves" and essentially said that i look like shit. she kept pestering me about it over and over again throughout the whole day. i think it was at that moment than i realized she does not want me to be happy. she wants to mold me into a version of myself that doesn't exist anymore.


whenever i see a man who has a really masculine face, i fly into a fit of rage knowing that he could go out wearing ten pounds of makeup, a dress, and heels and still be immediately recognized as male but i when i go out wearing jeans and a t-shirt with no makeup on and a short haircut i still get called ma'am 9 times out of 10. there's nothing feminine about me and yet i'm unmistakably female. weirdly enough, i actually get read as male more when i try to present femininely.

jeremiah left me a voicemail. what the fuck could he possibly want from me at 2:00 in the morning?


kyle continues to update me on the lives of everyone we went to middle school with. trixie, that "model" with bulimia who cut herself, got into a huge fight with some chick and a teacher that to come along and break it up. brenda is now brandon. jeremiah (the jock) got into narcotics and the feds busted him. nothing shocks me anymore.

speaking of jeremiahs, i was on a video call with jeremiah 2.0 today and about halfway through our conversation he pulled out some concealer that was way too light for his skin tone and and started smearing it all over his face while mumbling about how he wants to be white and he gets paler in the winter. he spent a good ten minutes coating his face in 10 layers of concealer. it was weirdly disturbing to watch, he had this glazed-over look in his eyes and it seemed like he was in a trance or something. i felt like i was watching heath ledger in the dark knight or some darron aronofsky nightmare sequence and i had no idea what to do. i said something like "hey man, i think that's enough and when i'm telling you to go easy on the pale foundation it's bad" half-jokingly. he just laughed maniacally, pulled out some eyeliner, and put it on. it was distinctly feminine, in this sort of cleopatra-esque style. he headed off to the bathroom without saying a word and when he came back he was sobbing and laughing at the same time. he said he bought a blonde wig off amazon and laughed again, mascara running down his face. i was totally dumbfounded because he always makes fun of trannies and freaks of that ilk (it's interesting, because he deeply hates anyone who is remotely like him or me, yet he makes an exception for me, to some extent - he wants to torment me but he still keeps me around, and maybe that's why he keeps me around). he kept saying "if you can't beat 'em, just join 'em" over and over again. he blurted out "i hope you get raped" and then followed it up by saying "sorry, that was intrusive." i responded "you'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you." yeah, i'm a cunt, but so is he.

i think he sees everything he hates about himself in me - i'm a warped funhouse mirror reflection of what he is, or what he could have been. i tell myself i despise him and that the only reason why i still hang out with him is because i'm scared of what he would do if i cut him off, and that's somewhat true, but there's still a part of me that's drawn to him. i can't take back everything everything i've told him. this psychopath knows more about me than my parents, my therapist, and just about everyone in the world combined. in turn, i know all of his secrets. we are blood brothers. if either of us betrayed each other, i feel like we'd open up a wormhole that couldn't be closed.


i have a reminder set on my phone that says "TAKE YOUR MEDS SCHIZO." it went off while i was in the bathroom and my teacher took my phone out of my backpack to turn it off.

the autistic kid who has become obsessed with me, alex, sat with us during lunch. she's not really a part of our friend group but she has latched onto us like a parasite and i don't want to say anything because i know what it's like to be in that position. but every time i hang out with her i'm reminded out how fucking annoying newly out lgbt people can be. at least she hasn't asked me about my pronouns or when i'm going on hormones or whatever but for fuck's sake i don't want to be told that i "look gay" and that you could tell that i wasn't straight from the moment you first saw me. i know i look gay and it made me a target my whole life, i don't need to be reminded of it. even before i made a conscious choice to dress the way that i do i was mocked for not performing gender correctly. kids learn to hate gays before they even know what the word "gay" means. yet another example of them seeing "queerness" as a fashion statement.

told the school counselor that i think all women would benefit from a good 3 years of male socialization, just to keep them in line. female socialization made you people far too comfortable with disrespecting strangers and not getting decked in the face for it. i'm a feminist - i believe that we should treat women the same way as we treat men: like shit.

i know that no one women will ever actually love me but i wish they'd be honest about what they actually want. i always see these alt girls posting about how they're into guys who are in touch with their feminine side and then you look at their boyfriend's page and he's a skater from oakland who gangbangs and dresses like jesse pinkman. stop giving us actual dorks and emo dorks false hope you evil wenches. and stop calling yourself a lesbian for cool points while you're at it, at best you are a bihet who would dump the sweetest most caring dyke in the world for a gangbanger who looks like a limp bizkit album cover come to life in a heartbeat.

women saying they want a "shy nerdy guy" is like the female equivalent of men saying they want a "goth chick" and then the goth chick in question is belle delphine (it's the same dudes who would come up to me in middle school and say some shit like "HEY COUNT FAGULA, IF I SCAN YOUR WRIST DO I GET A 66.6% DISCOUNT AT HOT TOPIC?" in middle school too).

^the shy nerdy guy in question.

i keep thinking about how my dad asked me why i would want to transition when i said that i don't want to be a freak. i replied that i've been a freak my whole life and he said that there's a difference between being a freak in a "cool" way and being a freak because you've medically altered yourself.

apparently marcel is still at it. caeden showed me a picture of him doing the nazi salute in class today. he never outgrew his whole trans-nazi phase, he think's that he's an aryan chad trapped in the body of a 5'4 asian manlet.

thinking about my burning hatred for children and teenagers (mostly teenagers). when an old person glares at me in public i don't give a shit. if i had a year left to live i'd spend it on a being a hater too. but when a kid harasses me in public for no reason it bothers me because i know that they have a good 70 years left of being a cunt in them. it makes me wish progeria was contagious.


overheard my father talking on the phone today to someone about how i need to get my vitamin b and d levels checked. i assume whoever's doing this will also check out my hormone levels and pressure me into taking estrogen if they come out wonky. "forcefemmed by cruel nurse" sounds like the name of a freaky underground fetish porno but this is my life now i guess. so awesome. looking forward to becoming the next david reimer. this is like FBT all over again.

i can't deal with this shit anymore. i want to come out again. i wish i had the balls to correct people when they call me something that i'm not but i'm so scared of being seen as "one of those people." i have such a strong desire to be seen as "one of the good ones" and i let breeders and genetics walk all over me because of it, even though i know it's irrational and i'll never be good enough for them. it doesn't make them respect me. it just shows them that i am weak, and they take great delight in testing how far they can push me before i snap. i'm scared that eventually i'm going to get myself raped because i'm incapable of saying no.

the therapist seems to think i'm a psychopath. she implied that i don't feel empathy and said that i have this desire to control people, manipulate the way that they think about me, and make them scared of me. i'm not a psychopath. i fucking wish. i know a psychopath (very well i might add) and if i had the opportunity to swap out my flavor of mental illness for his i'd do it in a heartbeat. funnily enough he says the same thing about me. on one hand, he does desperately want to feel loved and wanted just as i do and he loses his shit if people don't give him attention, but he also has a massively bloated ego. people have this idea that psychopaths don't experience emotions when they do - he can feel happiness, anger, sadness, etcetera but he doesn't appear to feel embarrassment, guilt, or shame. his mind coped with the trauma that he experienced by providing him with a set of emotional earplugs to muffle the sound of the outside world's cruelty. in contrast, i fluctuate wildly between quasi-manic states where my anxiety levels are so high that i can almost taste the cortisol being pumped into my system like a jackhammer drill inside my brain, depressive episodes in which i feel like i'm physically drowning in a pool of my own misery, and periods where i'm so emotionally numb that i would be willing to cut off a limb just to feel something again.


i'm jealous of this butch lesbian in my class. she exudes confidence. women flock to her. she's more masculine than me - effortlessly masculine - yet she's perfectly comfortable with being a woman.

i don't even know if i want to be a man. maybe i would be happy with being a woman if i could perform womanhood correctly. i know that there's no one way to be a woman, but there are a million types of woman out there and i'm not any of them. people tell me that i need to befriend butch lesbians but butch lesbians don't see me as one of them. everyone assumes that i'm a theyfab and i fucking hate it. i don't like being referred to with pronouns at all. i hate getting she/her'd but when people refer to me with male pronouns i feel like they're just humoring me because i know that no one sees me as a man. i hate getting they/them'd too because i feel very alienated from theyfabs. i appreciate them to some extent because they're usually nice people, but identifying as non-binary seems to be more of a political statement than an actual gender identity for them. it's a costume that they can take off and on at will. i remember the days when i just assumed that every lgbt person has gone through the same experiences that i have, and i opened up to this theyfab i befriended about how i was consistently harassed for being gnc throughout my whole life. i was in the middle of telling the story of how multiple different guys tried to kick down the bathroom door while i was in there when i looked up at them and realized they were just staring at me blankly. no thought behind those eyes. they've never experienced what it's like to actually be different because this is a choice for them. i hate the way that they talk about me like they want to wear my skin. i know that i look like one of the emo-pop boy band members whose faces are plastered all over their bedroom walls and listening to the way they talk about my appearance fuels my fear of getting old. i'm terrified of aging out of my youthful androgyny. fingers crossed i age into looking like rick owens instead of ellen, no offense to lesbian librarians but i don’t want to look like one. they think that my reality can be distilled into a pair of doc martens and a pixie cut and then they act like they have anything in common with me, let alone a transsexual hooker with aids. they "reclaim" slurs that they've never been called, the same slurs that i've been hearing on the streets and in the hallways before i knew how to do geometry.

heteroids were inquiring about my genitals before i even figured out how to use them. i was 9 when someone walked up to me and kicked me in the crotch to "figure out whether i was a man or a woman", 12 when i got called a tranny for the first time, 13 when i got into my first fistfight over my own identity. it's funny because they tried to beat it out of me, but they actually beat it into me. the more abuse i was put through due to my identity, the stronger it became ingrained in my mind. i could go on all day about how my high school sweetheart told me that i was the exception to her misandry because i wasn't a real man, about how i hear strangers hiss "what the fuck is that" and "is that a man or a woman" every time i dare step foot in public, about being dehumanized, fetishized, groped, hit, ridiculed, ostracized, used, discarded. this is the easy part. i go into great detail about every way i've ever been hurt in this book. after this is finished, i will have nothing left to say. i know what happened to me was wrong but i don't know what a life that's "right" looks like. people often ask me why i torment myself like this by presenting myself the way i do when i know i will be relentlessly mocked for it. i tell them that a life spent avoiding pain is not one worth living. i choose the pain that is meaningful to me.

this kid in my class really wants to be friends with me. she still wears crocs at 17 and while i feel bad for not wanting to hang out with her i can’t help it. she asked me for my number and i gave it to her but i really don’t want her spamming my phone with shrek memes from 2016 at 2:00 in the morning. i wonder if normal people see me the same way i see her. which one of us is lower on the social pyramid? do normal people lump all freaks into the same category or can they distinguish between the different varieties of us the way that i can?

i try to give at least one person a compliment each day. i fully admit that i do this for selfish reasons. i want to be liked. but i complimented this dude on the pantera patch on his backpack and we actually had a nice conversation. i didn't even recognize him at first but he mentioned he went to my middle school and then he brought up the class we had together. i felt kind of embarrassed because he used to be this midget in a minecraft jacket, then he had what i believe the kids call a "glowup." meanwhile i'm still exactly the same as i was in middle school minus 30 pounds or so. i wish i could make friends with him, but unfortunately no straight male would ever want to be seen in public with anyone who looks even remotely like me, and the men who are willing to befriend me always expect something in return if you get my gist.


first day of “school” today. technically, i’m still going to the program in the back of the school. i miss alice so much. you never really appreciate these things until they’re gone. the atmosphere used to be comfy, now something is off. they imported three girls who are all the same person give or take 100 or so pounds, down to the same insufferable personality and james charles-esque block eyebrows. they all burst into laughter when the goth chick i had a massive crush on last year walked in the room like they share one collective brain cell. if i’m being honest it was nice to not be the center of attention and subject of public ridicule for once in my life. it still makes me angry that they choose to be massive cunts, but it doesn’t bother me that much considering they something must have gone seriously wrong with their lives in order for them to end up in that program. and even if it didn’t, i’ve seen how their kind ages. they’ll be obese single mothers by 30 and i’ll still be anorexic and alone, but at least i won’t be indebted to some crotch goblin.

sick of being nice and lying through my teeth and trying to stay positive and subvert these people’s expectations. complimented some edgar on his retarded haircut and he kept exchanging looks with his toadie and smirking. beats the time i complimented some preppy girl on her sex pistols shirt (i knew her trust funded ass couldn’t name a single song off of never mind the bollocks but i still gave her the benefit of the doubt). she looked at me with an expression of pure disgust on her face and i never saw her wear it again.

i am exactly what you think i am. is this what you want me to say? yes, everything you assumed about me just from looking at me for 5 seconds was correct. i lost my virginity at the age of 11. i’m a closeted tranny. i can’t function without being pumped full of drugs and even then i can’t walk down the street without a mental breakdown. i take out my anger on people who i love, people who i see myself in the most. i want to kill myself and everyone around me and i also desperately want to be loved by everyone. there’s my confession. scandalous enough for you?

speaking of being a closeted tranny, i finally told my parents i want to retransition today. went about as well as you’d think. my father gave me the whole spiel about how he’ll love me no matter what but i was his little girl and now i’ve been possessed by this parasite that convinced me i was a man trapped in a woman’s body and that what i’m doing to myself, or rather what i’m going to do to myself is akin to michael jackson’s plastic surgery addiction (all his exact words, not mine). my mother just tried to talk over me the entire time, went on a rant about how doctors across the world are involved in a conspiracy to butcher teenagers for $$$, told me i feel like this because i probably have a hormone imbalance and i need to go to an endocrinologist who will stuff me full of estrogen pills like a thanksgiving turkey and then acted shocked when i told her i don’t want to do that. neither of them are willing to call me “jeff” or refer to me with male pronouns. in fact they made it extremely clear that they think my name is hideous. i’ve grown attached to the name because it was one of the first things i gave up when i made a decision to start compromising myself for the comfort of each others. i killed off parts of myself until there was no self to kill anymore. i don’t have an identity anymore. i let myself be defined by a world that wants me dead. i want me dead too.

if i could go back in time and change one thing, i would tell my younger self to commit suicide, before he developed the sort of emotional maturity to comprehend the magnitude of his own actions. there has never been a point in my life where i thought to myself, “i am so glad that my suicide attempt failed.” every happy moment is tainted by the knowledge that it will never last, that there’s always a catch.

next time i go out into the city i’m gonna grab the nearest junkie and demand to know where i can get fentanyl or heroin. they’ve effectively banned SN and god knows my built-in self-preservation instinct is too strong to hang myself. it’s fucking humiliating, i wasted the birthday money my uncle gave me on a decent rope and i couldn’t even muster the courage to kick the chair. valentine’s day earlier this year i tried to OD on a combination of suboxone, xanax, and alcohol. i was out cold for nearly two days until i woke up with a killer headache. ever since then it’s like i ripped a bandaid off inside my mind and all of the shit i managed to keep under control for years gushed forth like a river of blood and now i’m drowning in it. it’s as if i already blew my brains out and now all the thoughts are spilling out from a gaping hole in the back of my head.

realistically i know that being a man wouldn’t solve my issues. if i was actually a man i’d just be me, with a cock. i still have physical dysphoria though. i wish there was a way to transplant myself into a man’s body and reap the social benefits of being an attractive woman at the same time. to be an ugly woman is to be a cockless man. it says a lot that i’m a “cute girl” and i’m still completely incapable of functioning in society. imagine being granted life on easy mode and still managing to fuck it up that hard.


been very into that biohacker vampire guy who takes testosterone and estrogen at the same time as of late, i made fun of him at first but i feel a kinship with him. every day i'm reminded at least once of the burning hatred everyone has for anyone who is even remotely like me and i'm all of the things they hate condensed into one thing. i think to myself "i need to do this and that and get my shit together and learn how to be a normal person or no one will ever love me", but i don't know what's worse - dying alone or growing old together with someone who never knew the real you. i definitely fall into "freaky sexual experiment" territory right now, i can find someone to fuck me but no one wants to date me. i'm really scared of getting old (much like our vampiric friend) because i think you can only get away with being zany when you compensate for your weirdness somehow by being young or hot or tall or fit or all four.

i'm jealous of my gay (formerly bisexual) friend because he is a manwhore. i can see the way that sex addiction has rotted his soul from the inside out and i do care but i don't care because i understand why he does it. i organize my sexual conquests mentally like trophies. but i see it from a different perspective, a more morrissey-like one - i could fuck any man in the world i wanted (most will vehemently deny this and go "what the fuck is that undiscovered species of deep-sea creature?" if you showed them a picture of me, but every man on earth would probably fuck a literal pile of shit if they were horny and lonely and you left them in a room alone with it too long, especially if they knew that nobody would find out), i just choose not to because it doesn't boost my ego. but if you get a woman to fall in love with you, you must have done something really exceptional, because women always have suitors. one of my wildest sexual theories is that nobody actually has a "type." every woman wants brad pitt, every man wants megan fox, and you either take what you can get or you get lucky if you can afford to have high standards.

i exist on the same vibrational wavelength as this dude and when i see the most liberal girl you know say that he looks disgusting because of his androgyny i'm reminded that their acceptance of gender non-conformity begins and ends at a pixie cut. i am a freak on a molecular level, you could dress me up like barbie or john wayne or bowie and i'd still be the same person. i look at some of these people and i can tell that their clothes are wearing them rather than the other way around. it's very obvious that they cling so hard to labels because they feel inadequate (hint: if you feel the need to constantly seek outside validation for your identity, it's because you probably aren't valid). i am a contrarian above all else and if the hivemind comes after someone i have this instinctive urge to defend them the way that even girls who don't want kids are weirdly defensive of these slimy little test tube golems we call babies (apologizing in advance to the baby community and the women community).

you'll come crawling back to me when you feel lonely - use me when there's no holes left in the wall for you to fuck - i know you will


wow, i completely forgot about this site. okay, fine, less "forgot" and more "abandoned out of sheer laziness", but i'm back now.

the past month (and the whole year so far, really) has been a complete blur. i've was forced into eating disorder "recovery" a few weeks ago, which consists of my parents making me eat 3,000 calories a day and then refusing to let me go to school, see my friends, or use the internet if i don't. according to them, the only way to cure a mental illness that stems from feeling like i have no control over my life is to strip away any semblace of bodily autonomy from me. makes sense. keep in mind my parents are the same people who directly contributed to the development of my ed by denying me the ability to transition and leaving me feeling trapped in a body that became more alien to me with every passing day. i'm basically being punished for being sick. i am currently being supervised 24/7 because my parents raided my room and found my laxatives, xanax, and cigarettes (along with some hidden bags of puke).

of course, at first i was very non-compliant. i'd use all of my spare time to purge or pace around for hours at a time (i lost the privilege of having "alone time" pretty quickly), get in screaming matches with my parents every day, and cry at almost every meal. but for some reason i've suddenly started feeling a lot more emotionally numb. i'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing. i'm coming to view my body as a vessel rather than "myself." i feel like i've stockholm syndrome'd myself into accepting my situation. i'm still not sure if i actually want to recover or if i'm just having some sort of dissociative episode and this whole situation has caused old traumatic memories to resurface that triggered it.

the other day (before my parents discovered that i had self-harmed again and made me go back to the emergency room where i currently reside) i was making out with my new girlfriend - let's call her lulu for the sake of privacy - and she kept making comments about how skinny i am. she wrapped her fingers around my wrist and said it was tiny. at that point i just broke down crying. i told her something that seems so obvious in retrospect, yet it had somehow never occurred to me before: i starve myself in an attempt to slow down time. i want to be tiny because i want to be a kid again. if i'm small, frail, and weak, i don't have to reach out for help. i feel the need to constantly prove that i am struggling because i know that if i don't, everyone will just assume that i'm okay. i express feelings that i cannot put into words through my body. the hardest part of this isn't the weight gain itself but rather the implications of it. i have built an identity around being constantly miserable. this disease has become a part of me. i romanticize my own suffering. lulu tells me should still love me if i wasn't thin but the thing is, no one actually did. she even admitted herself that she's drawn to people who are broken. if i got better, than there would be nothing left to fix. i need to be cared for.


there's something uniquely humiliating about being socially shunned by other women when you're female/afab. being made fun of by men is one thing because you're taught from a young age that "boys will be boys" but listening to the girls sitting at the table across from me make fun of me like an hour straight just hits different. especially when i can't cope by telling myself that they were just mocking me for male validation because there were no guys present. i feel so alienated from womanhood, not in an edgy "i'm not like the other girls, i'm one of the boys™" way but more of an "i can't even view myself as a woman (or as someone who has a gender at all) because i've been excluded by members of both sexes from a young age, missed crucial developmental milestones, and have no idea what a normal female childhood or adolescence is supposed to look like but it sure as hell doesn't look like this" kind of way.