The Exercise in Futility

What is it like to be me?  So many of you just do not and cannot understand.  It’s a struggle daily that I go through just to be me.  I wish I could make you feel the way that I feel in hopes that it would give them some insight into what I deal with day in and day out, yet that is beyond me.  How can I articulate my version of reality to the world?  How can I make you know a tenth of the pain I feel so that you would understand and not lash out at me from fear of what you can’t truly comprehend?  Well, the closest think I can think of is to try to present an analogy that will hopefully demonstrate what everyday life is like for me.

To start off, close your eyes.  Now, imagine yourself, or rather, your self-image, got it?  Good.  Now open your eyes and go to the nearest mirror and look in it.  Does what you see in the mirror look at least similar to your self-image?  It should at least be close to what you saw in your mind’s eye.  Now imagine that instead of seeing yourself in the mirror you see someone of the opposing gender. 

In this scenario you are still yourself, in all regards, same personality, same likes and dislikes, same preferences, but whenever you look into that mirror you see the other person.  Now because you see that other person in the mirror, you know that that is, for all intents and purposes, how the world sees you despite that in your mind’s eye and even your dreams you see yourself differently.  This is what you look like physically.  Since this is what you look like, people are going to treat you accordingly and expect you to act accordingly, if you do not, then you are a freak and a danger to society, therefor you are under threat of attack if people find out about the inner you.  So you learn to play the role that fits your outer shell in order to hide who you really are inside.  You do this every day of your life, day in and day out, never letting that inner you out even though you only want to be able to be yourself and be accepted for who you really are.  You keep him/her caged inside, locked away for your safety and sanity as you play the role that has been dealt to you by God.  You are never able to freely be yourself or express yourself, you can only be the person that society dictates you must be whether you like it or not.

That is an idea of what my life is like.  It sucks.  It has sucked ever since I was young and started getting my behavior corrected by the people around me lest I stand out too much.  That little exercise pales in comparison to the way it actually feels to live my life, but I hope that it helps you to understand the pain I feel.  So, what is it like to be me?  So many of you do not understand but maybe if you try then the world will be a little bit brighter for people like me.

My Voice Has Been Stolen

Why can’t I say what I mean to say when I speak?  I try to convey my thoughts and feelings in an effort to express myself through speech yet only incoherent noise escapes my lips.  No matter how hard I try, how hard I struggle; the words just don’t come out right.  All I want to do is speak my mind, to let people know who I am and what I think, yet as always it comes back to the fact that I cannot speak. 

I think it comes from the need to hide who I am from the world.  All my life I have been told that I had to conform to the role that society has set for me.  When I was growing up every time I did something that did not fit into the role that someone thought I should fit into, I was mocked and ridiculed, told I was a freak.  Overtime I learned to fit into the role that had been defined for me, conform lest I be destroyed.  Because of this I am an actor, an actor of the stage of life, one of the best actors that have ever lived.  I have the whole world fooled.  They look at me and they see exactly what they expect to see, the person that they think I should be and it only cost me my voice. 

The world sees the shell, not the person inside.  If they could see to my core they would see that she is screaming in frustration, desperately wanting to be heard, yet I keep her locked away as the thirty two years of my life have told me I should.  Her eyes are filled with tears of frustration at not having a voice, being able to watch life go by but not able to do anything to affect it.  If she were to show herself, and the world was to see her, then all the hate, all the pain that led to where she is now would be heaped once again upon her shoulders and it would break her. 

She wants to be free… I want to be free.  This life of hiding is slowly killing me.  I am tired of hiding behind this façade I put up.  I am tired of having to fit the role that people have thrust upon me.  I am tired and I just want it all to end.  It’s not fair that I was forced to live this life.  I didn’t want it.  If it wasn’t for the one that I love above all others I believe I would have chosen to end this long ago.  She is the only one who has ever listened to me and accepts me for who I am.  She doesn’t judge me.  She makes life bearable when I think it is getting to be too much.  Yet, despite the fact that I can be myself around her, even in her presence I cannot speak.  The struggle is still there no matter what. 

The struggle is still there, no matter what.  I try as hard as I can, yet I struggle still.  It makes me want to scream, to shout, to cry and to lash out to try to force it due to the frustration that I am filled with due to my inability to express myself.  Sometimes I just don’t know what to do.  I just want to be able to be myself without fear of the world and the people in it.  It is enough to make me wish that magic were real so I could just magically correct the issue that has led me to hide myself.  Unfortunately that is not the way reality works though. 

Perhaps if I were braver then maybe I could present my face to the world for all to see, yet I am a coward and I know it.  I see other people that are just like me that are willing to do what they feel that they must, opening themselves to attack, and I am jealous of them and the spine that they have.  I want to be them so bad.  If I was them then I wouldn’t have to be me, I would be braver and not have to live in fear… at least that is what I think.  Sometimes I wonder if they had to deal with the same kind of thoughts that I deal with in this regard. 

But, as much as I sometimes wish I could be them, that doesn’t change the fact that I am me.  So I hide, I cry, I hurt and ache.  I struggle daily with these thoughts, knowing that nothing will ever change because of my fear and cowardice.  I know that with what little I have said here I still have barely scratched the surface of what I wanted to say but, as I have mentioned before, I cannot speak.  I have tried to speak my mind and use my voice but I know that I have not articulated even a tenth of what I feel.  Oh well, life goes on.  Maybe one day I will find my voice once more, but till then I hide, I cry, I hurt and I ache.