Yesterday I celebrated X-Mas for the very first time. My family never celebrated X-Mas other than by putting up an X-Mas tree and some snacks, but because Pieter only celebrates X-Mas this was the first time that it was a truly special day, with unpacking gifts under the tree in the morning, followed by a day filled with yummy food and lots of movies (about 6-7 hours total). I thought it was a fun day, despite multiple attempts on my life by the dogs during the day.
The dogs had been given fleshed out bones by Pieter as their X-Mas present, and on two occasions the dogs managed to place a bone on the stairs, right where one would step on it if unaware of it. Another time one of the dogs managed to lob his bone between the steps of the staircase to the second floor down to the staircase underneath it, a second after my head passed through that very location. Just goes to prove that dogs are actually planning to take the lives of the people around them all the time. Best friend of man... yeah right. We (meaning Pieter ;) ) even had to clean up the mess they made during the day, including one dog barfing up on the floor and others pretending that they hadn't been outside for a week by springing a leak, if you catch my drift. Ah well :P
To me this year represents the end of a lot of things and steps into an uncertain future. At one side I have cut off communications with nearly everyone, including my direct family, as I simply do not feel comfortable being around 'normal' people. At the other hand I have got lots of work, am working on a game with my dear friend Trevor, who is also giving me a hand with a new big, commercial project I started a short while ago, something which I'm enjoying a lot, as I get to learn and do things which are new to me. If things work out, Trevor and I could have a very successful software and game development company next year.
Lately I have been sleeping okay, thanks to the sleeping pills I'm taking now. My subconsciousness won't leave me alone, though, and likes to rub it in via my dreams that I am different. Many of my dreams feature contact with others, and never, not even in the dreams of many, many years ago, have I ever felt like I had an identity. I'm either an observer or a child, though sometimes a child with the body of an adult, including the desires, which I then experience in a very distant manner, without understanding and without enjoying.
Sunday and Monday night I ended up crashing emotionally, crying myself to sleep after a hysteria attack, which was especially severe on Sunday night. Tuesday morning I went to see Pieter shortly after getting out of bed as I was feeling horrible again. The rest of the time, such as right now, I try to diffuse the pain and frustration I feel inside through a mask of indifference.
What I have come to realize is that with things like this, I can not be among others, as doing so only hurts me. The world I feel happiest in is a cold, clinical environment, where I can work on all kinds of technological and scientific projects without ever having to deal with emotions ever again. Emotions beyond those of a child, of course, as it are the more developed emotions of an adult which I can not deal with, which have never (properly) developed inside me, but rather torn out of the soil and trampled to be left to rot and fester in the sun and rain.
My rational side is most definitely on the level of an adult, even far beyond the capabilities of the average person. In terms of emotional skills, I doubt it'll ever reach the level of even a 12-year old. I intend to at least protect the childish emotions I do have and which are stable. If I have to completely isolate myself from society except through my work, so be it. Clearly nobody cares about whether I am truly happy, for I am not.
Pieter can see it in me as well, and not just when he is sitting beside me, offering me comfort when I'm crying uncontrollably again. I'm feeling absolutely and totally miserable inside. There is so much pain inside of me that there is little place for anything else. During one of the many times that the pain had welled up and taken control of me I came up with the idea to get some attention for my pain and suffering through a truly last-ditch effort: a hunger strike. Thing is, rationally I can see some benefit in this idea as well.
Yes, it is desperate, and it is risky physically, but it'll allow me to get the attention I feel I need. Right now I can feel the chaos and pain swirling inside of me, like a black vortex. I realize that no matter what I do, this vortex is only getting bigger and will consume me at some point. It just needs enough stimulation, which is the reason why I am cutting myself off from the outside world. Yet what I desire is a way to actually resolve this stand-off. I'm not going to let some stupid, ignorant and selfish people ruin my life like this.
I want to lead a 'normal' life, I don't want to lock myself up and pretend I already am happy, that I can just pretend I don't have an adult body. I want to live... Yet the way I have been treated and still am indicates to me that I do not truly exist. There is no definition for what my body is, my emotional distress is duly ignored and the stress of living with a fake official identity, nor its emotional effects seem to ring any alarm bells. Nothing I do matters. Everybody will just ignore it. That is my general feeling. When somebody offers help I'll just smile, as not a single grain of hope is left in me.
Just a bit longer and it'll be exactly 4 years since I started to ask for attention and help for my situation. Four years filled with fighting against a wrong conclusion by 'experts', them accusing me of hitting my own mother, of being not right in my head, of being a very confused boy. Four years of having every thing I said misinterpreted or ignored. Four years of others showing me that the world of adults is a cruel and unforgiving place, with sexuality being so crucial and yet so sick and twisted. Four years of waiting and more waiting and disappointment after disappointment, of desperately searching for help and only getting told that I'm just male, of getting a medical opinion (twice) confirming the best-case scenario, only to have others disagree with it again.
I truly see no hope in a fifth year...
Maya
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