On my way back from the office today I was walking alone for the first time this week. The difference compared to when I was walking around with my male colleague was quite... interesting. Beyond the extensive looks I got from a few women, I had men staring at me intensively. Two even made pretty lewd remarks in German, basically amounting to that they found what they saw to be quite interesting.
I can't say it made me feel flattered or special. More like weirded out and disgusted. The clothes I am wearing today are for comfort, not for looks: skin-tight jeans and black top with the top part lace because it's awesome in summer time, accompanied by the slightly heeled sandals I bought recently. The way people responded to me I felt more like I was in some kind of freak show. Maybe that's what those two guys were referring to, though. I don't know. I don't think I'm attractive. Not that I care about such matters.
Inside this body lives a mind which wants to live freely and feel at ease. Something went wrong, though, as instead it feels trapped and hunted. There's only the constant awareness that I as a person am in no way relevant. Nobody truly cares about whether I feel happy or at ease. Maybe it's just because they do not understand and feel it. I do keep up this facade of a successful and relatively care-free person, but that's more because the alternative is to be a complete emotional wreck. At times this does come to the surface, though.
Right now I feel just incredibly sad. I won't end up living in Germany, but end up homeless if I don't commit suicide first. That's how my story is supposed to go. There is no such thing as a happy ending in reality. Those who are happy stay happy, those whose lives were ruined by others will toil among the ruins until they die or end their own existence. I was never meant to be happy. I wasn't happy as a child. I was miserable as a teenager. After that everything turned into an absolute hell.
I'm a mere cog in the ruthless machine of society. Easily ignored and forgotten. Easily replaced. Ergo no reason to worry about any discomfort I may experience while I strive to be a useful addition to society.
Part of me wishes reality was just that black and white. The few touches of kindness make life so much harder for me. When I get back to the Netherlands in two weeks time I'll have this gift waiting for me from a friend. It's a sweater with angel wings on the back. He bought it for me after I mentioned that I thought it was really cute. As I type this tears are streaming freely over my face. It's both very pleasant to realize that I'm not a total reject and that at least some people care about me, but at the same time it's the most horrible thing in the world.
How can I end my existence if I can not say farewell to life without some regrets left? Part of me longs for the feeling of complete peace when I took those pills a few years ago which should have ended my life. I fear I won't ever get it back.
Maya
3 comments:
Maya,
I don't know you very well. In fact we only met 2 or three times in a G+ Hangout, but I can tell you this...What I saw was a very sweet, intelligent young lady who was attractive at first sight but after hearing you speak, I found that you were even prettier on the inside, even before I knew anything about your sex. (I know that's probably not worded right)
I do believe that you can be happy. I can't empathise with your situation because I can't fathom what your life has been like until now. I just believe that there is someone out there for each of us who can make that difference. I don't have a very good track record myself as I am going through my second divorce right now, but I'm not going to give up and I hope you don't.
I wish you all the best,
Rodney Pike
I'm sorry that my caring makes you feel horrible.
and I don't want you to feel rejected either, because you're not, at least not by me
(>^_^)> <('.'<)
I feel very similarly to you Maya.
There are others like you out there on their very last glimer of light.
Maya, We are the walking dead, our souls crushed and destroyed by a world that does not want us. Usually held here by someone who loves us just enough to make us stay, so they don't have to lose us but for whatever reason, can't make us feel wanted or even any less alone.
Very rarely, some how us dead souls are brought back to life by someone or something. I was once, but now i'm dead again.
Back in the ranks.
Our bodies walk the streets, drive to work/school... exist on autopilot - there's no one home, our souls died because nobody loves us. Those who try to comfort us are only cuddling dead metal - they give us just enough light to keep us here as zombies, but not enough to bring us back to life.
I was once held up as role model, people all over the country admired my strength of spirit. My confidence in the face of adversity. My inner light. I seemed to glow even though I got so much hate - especially from the trans* and GLBT community that was supposed to accept me.
(I was the first trans person to come out in high school in my country)
A decade on I've got nothing left.
We've got a lot in common Maya - though I know it's too late for it to matter, I'm dead too and the dead can't resurrect each other.
<3
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