I Hate This...

When I left the hospital last Friday I already knew that this was going to happen, but I hoped that it wouldn't. Without any certainty regarding some fundamental questions and issues I seem to be descending back into the same negative chaos as before.

Last Friday and the day after I felt quite good, somewhat happy, even. Yet the realization that at this point I'm basically waiting for a phone call in a few weeks time, which'll finally provide me relief, or make me want to really kill myself. Not exactly an improvement compared to before Friday.

What is it that I'm worrying about? That the Erasmus laboratory will report back that the German MRI report was wrong after all, even though the only thing to disprove it right now are the words of that bumbling fool of an endocrinologist at the VUMC. Heck, I can _feel_ that it is right. This is why it irked me Friday as well when V.d. Berg somewhat suggested that she didn't exclude the possibility that I might be transsexual. The day that I'm transsexual is the day that I kill myself, because then I've been proven to be totally insane.

I just don't know what I am, I guess. For three years I've fought to discover the truth, and I still only know a few loose bits and pieces. I live a kind of shadow life, where I don't really belong anywhere, where I can't really communicate with anyone, where I'm alone with this pain inside me which no one can ever hope to understand as even I have trouble dealing with it.

I am reminded of that day when I apologized to B for putting some things about her on my blog. When she told me that it'd take time for the damage to be restored and our 'friendship' with it, I could literally see the huge chasm between us. How can someone be a friend if that person is always at the other side of a very wide and very deep chasm?

Similarly, on sites like Facebook I'm being pursued by dozens of guys who seem to find me rather attractive, yet even if I were to meet a guy that way who I'd find attractive, there are still a few chasms between us which I don't see vanish any time soon. In other words, I'm doomed to be alone until I can fix those chasms, which are projects of this internal pain.

I know most of the causes of this pain... yet I'm powerless to repair many of them, unless I had a time machine, and rapists wouldn't exist on this world. Yet it isn't only pain I feel. There's also an incredible amount of anger and frustration. Seriously, how could anyone ever expect to understand what I'm going through? I know of just one person who does to any significant extent, which is why I'd call him a real friend. My only real friend.


Maya