Like a helpless child.
Like a tiger, trapped in a cage
Like endless fall rain across the Coast
...
So I'm trying to remember the cold, slimy, frigid touch of my doctor...eurgh...and the moment when he asked me whether or not he wanted me to have him insert a finger in my bum and I refused quite vehemently. Because at this point I'll rather they put a camera in there. He had fat fingers. Short stubby fat fingers and I didn't like it one bit. Lilo is in daycare, and I walked back from the daycare like I did the day before. I had eaten more than the day before because I have lost 8 pounds since I stopped smoking that illegal herb I'm not supposed to refer to but I will, because at this point I need it. So fuck you, C*****a and your master down under.
But because I forced myself, I ate more than the day before. I had my stomach larger and heavier than it has been recently. So it pressed against whatever is hurting. And walking started hurting. So that sucks, big time. Fuck you body for failing on me.
Is that harsh of me? What can I say, I'm a heartless robot. I have no sympathy what so ever! I must be setting unrealistic standards for myself for this body is failing to meet the performance level I expect from it. It comes from a great, athletic pedigree...or at least, half of one. I was told my real father was a short man...and I believe it, looking at the recent family portraits.
Still what I lacked in body mass I made up for by cross dressing, producing an excessive amount of testosterone and overachieving in imagination and procrastination. And it has gotten me...this far from home. But home was always something to escape from, only now I want to run back to it. Yet I know I have no place in my father's home, given my beliefs and 'perversions'. My priest of an uncle will not even talk to me. Are they scared, what do they think? Of what? The line between the pragmatic and the spiritual, or the Christian and the pagan, left hand right hand, opposition and duality, dogma versus dogma...I think I'm tiptoeing that line. What do I believe in...
I believe in what I experience. And I've experienced some unbelievable things. And now my stomach hurts and it feels like the end of the world. That doesn't make sense. I have to take care of my cat. And pick Lilo up from daycare. And think of how tomorrow is going to work out. Because I haven't thought it out yet. I bled so it's not a tubal pregnancy, but it almost feels like that's where it's wrong. I can feel the pain echo through my body to a spot right between my hips, somewhere it is able to shoot the pain through my belly and my back, and if I've got to poop or I've eaten a lot it does not appreciate the extra weight, and I have no appetite. Life's pretty gray right now. I should pick up a movie on the way home.
If only I could rent a car. Too young to, but old enough to fuck.
Like a tiger, trapped in a cage
Like endless fall rain across the Coast
...
So I'm trying to remember the cold, slimy, frigid touch of my doctor...eurgh...and the moment when he asked me whether or not he wanted me to have him insert a finger in my bum and I refused quite vehemently. Because at this point I'll rather they put a camera in there. He had fat fingers. Short stubby fat fingers and I didn't like it one bit. Lilo is in daycare, and I walked back from the daycare like I did the day before. I had eaten more than the day before because I have lost 8 pounds since I stopped smoking that illegal herb I'm not supposed to refer to but I will, because at this point I need it. So fuck you, C*****a and your master down under.
But because I forced myself, I ate more than the day before. I had my stomach larger and heavier than it has been recently. So it pressed against whatever is hurting. And walking started hurting. So that sucks, big time. Fuck you body for failing on me.
Is that harsh of me? What can I say, I'm a heartless robot. I have no sympathy what so ever! I must be setting unrealistic standards for myself for this body is failing to meet the performance level I expect from it. It comes from a great, athletic pedigree...or at least, half of one. I was told my real father was a short man...and I believe it, looking at the recent family portraits.
Still what I lacked in body mass I made up for by cross dressing, producing an excessive amount of testosterone and overachieving in imagination and procrastination. And it has gotten me...this far from home. But home was always something to escape from, only now I want to run back to it. Yet I know I have no place in my father's home, given my beliefs and 'perversions'. My priest of an uncle will not even talk to me. Are they scared, what do they think? Of what? The line between the pragmatic and the spiritual, or the Christian and the pagan, left hand right hand, opposition and duality, dogma versus dogma...I think I'm tiptoeing that line. What do I believe in...
I believe in what I experience. And I've experienced some unbelievable things. And now my stomach hurts and it feels like the end of the world. That doesn't make sense. I have to take care of my cat. And pick Lilo up from daycare. And think of how tomorrow is going to work out. Because I haven't thought it out yet. I bled so it's not a tubal pregnancy, but it almost feels like that's where it's wrong. I can feel the pain echo through my body to a spot right between my hips, somewhere it is able to shoot the pain through my belly and my back, and if I've got to poop or I've eaten a lot it does not appreciate the extra weight, and I have no appetite. Life's pretty gray right now. I should pick up a movie on the way home.
If only I could rent a car. Too young to, but old enough to fuck.
Hope they find the cause of the pain really soon. It sounds awful and especially stressful not to know what is wrong. Your harsh thoughts are understandable but believe me besides the very few weak points your body is amazing in every sense and a strong fighter through all the hard past times. The only
ReplyDeleteentity which outperforms your body is your personality which protects your sensitive soul with that gladiatorial shell.
Home is not a physical place but where you are loved. People much too much concentrate on the languages and don't listen to what is actually said. It doesn't matter in what language (or religion or believe or way of life) you talk, important is what you say. And with you I only hear love and spiritual strenght and moral sincerness and honesty and devoted motherhood. You can't please everyone so don't even try it or worry about it. If people only listen to you with their ears and not their hearts it's their own loss. Still I can see your distinction from your family and the feeling of separation and loneliness. Wishing you a rainbow in your grey cloud. I remember that you often said that Lilo was the source of strength for you to live but now it's time to look again for the power within yourself. <3