I won't lie to any of you, nor to myself. It isn't going well with me. My days mostly consist out of mindlessly staring at things without really noticing them, or crying from the pain I feel growing stronger and stronger inside me, and me trying to push these things all away, to focus on the thing which can still save me: finishing some projects, to make money and become a Person Who Matters.
Ever thought about how much a person is truly worth? The sad truth is that the value of a person's life is exactly zilch. Just like there is no meaning of life, just a series of meaningless events resulting in meaningless death, there is no meaning to affection, love, hatred, anger, or any other of the petty emotions we humans like to concern ourselves with.
I would so much like to drop this meaningless world of humans, to focus on science and technology only, but sadly it is too intertwined with human emotions and pain. At this point the time I last from cheered up and ready to do some serious work on the game, or projects for clients, or anything, to lethargy or so much emotional pain that suicide truly seems like the only way out.
I doubt that few people have ever been in the situation where they're in so much pain that they can only cry and scream it out in pain, this pain worsened by the knowledge that it'll never go away, that one will have to have live with it forever and ever, with the pain increasing every passing day. I don't say this while feeling smug or whatever that I can feel so god-darn important about feeling this miserable or so. You want to trade this pain for your utterly boring life? You've got it.
The infuriating thing about my body... from my visit to the cardiologist last week I know that it is perfectly healthy, that the issues I'm experiencing are most likely due to stress and being out of shape. Yet I am taking sleeping pills now since a few days ago, this time the real stuff, which knocks me out within 10 minutes after taking one pill.
Something must be wrong that I never feel rested, never feel relaxed, that certain words, phrases, sounds and images make me feel sick to my stomach, even when I'm just browsing a dictionary like today. The voices inside my head are clear about what's wrong; they tell me that I'm a freak of nature, an accident, that I'll never know what to call my body, how to define or describe it, not to myself nor to others. That there can be done nothing about this, that the amount of care fellow human beings can display to each other is limited to some half-hearted attempts at solving the issue, to then declare it an enigma and throw the person into a strait-jacket and into a padded room.
Unless something radically changes, I'll be facing my own death. Emotionally I'm degrading more and more. I can see no future, any dreams I have had I have discarded, as I have faced up to reality. For so long I have hoped for what turned out to be a miracle. That I would learn what is wrong with my body, why it is so weird, to put a label on it and receive treatment for it.
I can expect no miracle. This year I'll be treated at the VUMC like I have been treated before by every other Dutch medical 'specialist', like a emotionally confused 'boy'. No one will notice that my real issue lies with my body, that asking me to decide now on whether I want an artificial vagina or such is absolute and utter nonsense. That's like decorating a baby's room and buying clothes and toys before the baby is even born.
No, I'm not a boy, physically. Else people wouldn't have asked me in the past whether I was a boy or a girl, and they would be looking really strange at me now as they do at transvestites and transsexuals. I wouldn't have been raped, sexually assaulted, or willingly been kissed by boys. It isn't in my head...
I just want to know what I am before I decide what I want to be. Nothing more...