Love Friend.

I’d write this in the form of poetry, but this isn’t really poetic.

This is about a boy, maybe that’s a cliche way of starting a blog post, but this is genuine and I don’t really care about how cliche or not this is.

He’s not just a last resort, and if he is, I usually tell him. I feel like I can be so honest with him and if I find myself lying, I always tell him. I think he understands why I do that, not that lying is an excuse. I haven’t lied to him in a long while.

It’s nice how when him and I go a while without talking, our conversations can start back up again, whether it’s reminising about the past, continuing an unfinished subject, or starting a new journey together. I’m not in love with him, but I feel a sense of love towards him and for him.

Maybe I’m lonely, but I’m lonely in general and for some reason, sometimes I seek him out more than even he or myself even knows.

I find myself wanting to tag him in random posts, but sometimes I’m worried he’ll see them and think ” Uh, why would you tag me in this? what does this post even mean in regards to me? “. Or that I’m being pushy and annoying with how I feel.

I care about him, and I remind him way too much.. atleast too much in my eyes, but I actually do. I care and sometimes when I tell him that I love him, I need to know myself that I do. I just want himto know that even though i don’t understand his mind sometimes, or the particular situations he’s experiencing, that I’m here and I haven’t left entirely except times when I’m almost disassociating in general or closing off and isolating myself from him and people in general.

I find that I usually close off when I feel like I’m being ovr affectionate and overwhelming.

But I’m glad he’s there, and my intentions with him are more good than bad.

( Maybe you’ll read this some day bue )

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Depressing Haunts.

I feel so alone, even though I have people around me sometimes. I just want to push everyone away. My old problems are starting to hit me like a brick again. Not that they stopped haunting me, they were just hovering.

I have a job.. part time, I longboard almost every other day, I try to read once in a while but sometimes my lack of attention span gets to me, I want interaction with my friends, but life is slowly draining me again.

I want to talk. I want to be there for people, but sometimes I just can’t even be there for myself, you know? I have hopes. I have dreams…. but they’re becoming more broken and I haven’t chipped away at them as much as I could have.. should have… the should haves are getting to me.

I could be worse… my problems aren’t as bad as some people’s, but that doesn’t make me any less valid, does it? People tell me I am valid, but I don’t feel that way sometimes.

I’m losing myself more and more everyday. I wish I could write more often, but I keep running out of words. It’s hard to transfer all of my feelings into words. This entire time for years, I thought I was writing what I was feeling, and sometimes I was and do write about how I feel.. but it’s usually how I think I feel. I didn’t realize that until therapy.

I hate that my therapist is away until near the end of August.. I just started getting back into therapy because I stopped going. I thought I could handle being alone… being without help… but I have a difficult time.

Habitual Experiences

So for as long as I can remember, I’ve been biting my nails. Probably ever since I realized that I could bite my finger nails.

The thing is, I’ve heard that putting nail polish on your nails doesn’t help, but for me, I always end up scraping the polish off with my teeth.. but it works in that way because once the nail polish is all off, I for some reason don’t end up biting my nails.

Sometimes I find myself nibbling on them, but then noticing and stopping myself.

It’s neat how habits work. What stragety may help someone stop their habit, may not always work for others. Which is very true in most cases.

I’ve been going to therapy now and for some reason I’ve felt the need to quit this one habit even though it isn’t really hurting me other than putting extra bacteria back into my body that I could live without. It helps me when I’m nervous.

I’ve also had the habit of rocking in rocking chairs to the point of them breaking. I’vebeen doing this since I was young as well. I just sit there and listen to music and zone out. I find myself doing so mostly when I’m stressed and at night in the wee hours.

We all have habits we are embaressed of, or atleast have a habit that many people endure but to a certain extent. But sometimes I feel weird about my habits.

I will hopefully grow out of them all.

Dying Travesty

I feel so alone even though I’m not. I’m so dependant on people and I know that I can live without someone , but i just don’t understand how people can jump from one relationship to the other and I’m just sitting here and I cant even date one person.

im too much of a mess, even when I’m solid. when i start to work on myself, I notice things getting better because i allow them to and then someone comes along and i get attached and all they have to do is give me attention.

I feel as though i have attachment issues that may stem from my birth mother not being there and although i had and have parents who have raised me, it’s as though I’m still looking, searching for that something that will fix me, heal me from whatever this void is.

I keep developing these online friendships, relationships, encounter, whatever you want to decipher them as. I go online because I’m a legit computer addict. People don’t take me seriously when I tell them that. they just say “yeah well so am I”. maybe they are, but it’s something I struggle with. I’ve become addicted with the fact that I can be who and whatever I want on here.

I’m me on here, just as i am in person, but it’s easier. I keep convincing myself that im better off dating people online because then I don’t have to get physically attached and I’ll be okay. but it’s worse. it’s really bad.

I don’t know what to do anymore. i have so many things to say, and do. but I’m just thoughts. I don’t know how to put them into physical things.

I want to be social but I don’t like it at the same time because it causes anxiety, and stress. ” am i bothering you? ” ” why are they are looking at me that way? “. those are only a few of the questions that ask myself, not out loud though.

I just want to be okay and happy because ive been there before in a state of happiness.

Am I even alive though? sometimes I ask myself that. I don’t even know what I am if I am breathing. not human, but also not an alien.

The song that I am listening to while writing this post:

 

When I was a few months old, I was placed in a foster home with a little boy and his parents, shortly afterwards, those parents had adopted me as their own child. My birth mother, not only was she young, was not able to take care of me aswel as my birth father.

I do not remember how old I was when I was told that I was adopted. I also don’t remember how I reacted on the spot, whether I actually understood what being adopted meant or if I just acted like I understood because as I grew older, maybe around 6 or 7 years old I remember being really angry.

I threw tantrums almost all the time over the littlest things and I remember asking people to call me by the name I was given at birth even though my name had been changed. I assume it was one of the many ways I used to cope with knowing that I had been adopted.

These parents, who are still my parents, who are the only people who actually were there for me through everything and are still here for me, still love me to this very day.

I’ve gone through some hard obstacles in my life, maybe not as ‘bad’ or as worse as some people’s struggles, but I’ve been delt with a very mix and matched sort of hand.

The reason as to why I am writing about being adopted is because even though I had a loving family and still do, I had always wondered what it would be like to meet my birth parents. See if I actually looked like someone instead of just having the same hair colour as one of my brothers, although I didn’t grow up with blood, I inherited similar traits as my adoptive parents. I knew that I didn’t need to know any of my blood relatives. I had met one blood sister who’m I went through phases of denying her as my sister and not. I always wanted a sister growing up, but I just didn’t like her for some reason.

I didn’t want to have to put my name on an adoptive registry just to find my birth mother so I just decided to stop looking. Until one day, I found a picture with my birth sister’s last name from when she was born. We looked our birht mother up on facebook and to both of our surprises, we found her.

I mean anyone can have a dopple ganger, I think that’s what they’re referred to as. So that woman could have been anyone, even now how can one be so sure that the family they get close to and believe are related to them, aren’t you know? The birth sister I knew for the majority of my life not only looked like our birth mother, but her other children looked like the both of us. One of my sisblings I had met actually could pass as my twin sometimes. It’s actually pretty neat.

Now that I’ve grown to know part of my birth family, the mystery of what happened to my birth father still lingers.

Another reason as to why I’m writing this, is because my Niece is getting adopted and as much as it’s going to hurt her mother, (the sister who looks like myself and I look like her), it’s going to hurt me as well. I remember the time I received a phone call about her being brought into this world. The first time I held her, I will never forget.

I haven’t been able to see her often due to many different obstacles, but I get to see her next week hopefully for the last time for the next while because she’s actually getting adopted and although it hurts to see her go, she really won’t be gone, just physically, but taken in by a loving family. She’s grown so much since the time she was brought into this mess of a world, that it amazes me and comforts me at the same time knowing that she’s being placed in th arms of people who will be able to give her everything she needs, on top of that extending the love she has been given by her blood relatives.

I hope to be able to hold a place in her heart and have her be reminded of a part I’ve played in her little life.

I love her so much.

Transitioning and pronouns.

I’m all over the place with identifying as one thing, then another thing. It not only confuses others, but myself.

One minute I identify as androgynous, the next transgender the next a queer transguy. I’ve gotten rude comments thrown at me either on Tumblr anonymously or even people who used to be my friends.

It’s not that I’m throwing different tags on my posts on various social networks just because I can, I’m not even ” throwing ” them, I’m using them because my gender and sexuality changes almost on a daily and it gets annoying when people just assume that I’m using said labels just because I can and to ” put a bad name behind gender ” as I’ve been told.

If anything, all in all, regardless if I further my transition by taking testosterone or not, first and foremost, I want to legally change my name and gender and get top surgery.

I am my own person and people’s words do not define me. I’m not apologizing for being on and off, back and forth with my identity. I don’t do that to piss anyone off.