I Don't Know

I don’t know.

I don’t know who can hear my voice.

I don’t know who would help me now.

I don’t know who would even try.

I don’t know what it will take to change it.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what could make things right.

I don’t know when it became so complicated.

I don’t know when it became so hard.

I don’t know when things will get better.

I don’t know where this path ends.

I don’t know where I’m going.

I don’t know where it began.

I don’t know why it is this way.

I don’t know why no one will listen.

I don’t know why anyone would care.

I don’t know how I can live like this.

I don’t know how life continues day to day.

I don’t know how to continue.

I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

Hatred

I hate you all.
I hate each and every one of you.
I hate YOU, Society, and the way you look at me and others like me in fear.
You force us to hide in the shadows, worried what might happen if we are found.
You reject and spit on us, tearing at our cloths.
You mock us and beat us because we don’t fit into your world view.
You torture us in your attempts to force us to conform.
I hate you for that and I hate everything that you stand for.
You think that we are a disease, afraid we might spread.
You hate us.
You make us weep tears of pain and fear.
I hate you for that.

I hate YOU, Mom and Dad.
You couldn’t accept me as I am.
You turned your back on your daughter.
You blamed yourself because she was a freak.
You didn’t show her the love and acceptance that she yearned for.
You told her that she was wrong and needed to be locked away.
You turned a blind eye when the gun was in her hand.
You looked away, not trying to understand.
You made her kill a part of herself, doing irreparable harm.
You disgust me with what you did to me.
You probably think you were doing the right thing.
But you broke my heart.
You left me in the dark with nowhere to go.
You thought that I would bring shame for being the freak that I am.
You told me to forget what had happened and never speak of it again.
I can’t forget and I won’t, it consumes me.

Most of all, I hate YOU, God.
You who put me here
You who made me like this.
You hurt me in ways I can never describe with words.
You brought me into this like some sick joke.
It’s ALL your fault, every last bit.
I loathe you.
I despise you.
You set things into motion.
You wrecked my life before it even started.
I will never forget what you did to me.
You made me broken, an unfinished product.
You cast me down into a world of pain.
You know I hate you.
But you know what the worst thing of all is?
I know you don’t care. 
You cast me aside like an afterthought.
I hate you so much.
I hate YOU.

Pain

I will never have the look that I want.

I will never have the body that I want.

I will never be able to dress the way that I want to dress.

I will never be beautiful.

I will never be pretty.

I will never be sexy.

I will never really be the woman that I feel that I am.

I will always be ugly.

I will always be hideous.

I will always be disgusting.

I will always be trapped.

I will always hate my body.

I will always hate myself.

I will always be male.

I can do nothing to change this, not without paying a price I don’t want to pay.

I can do nothing.

I wish I were braver.

I wish I could take that final step.

I wish I could leave this pain behind.

I wish people would listen to my cries.

I wish I could cry louder in order to be heard.

I am dying inside but no one can see.

I hurt.

I ache.

I long for release.

I hate this.

I hate the jealousy I feel when I look at other women.

I hate how they can be so lucky and not know it.

I hate how I can never be like them.

I hate how cheated I feel.

I know that God doesn’t care.

I have cried out to the heaven.

I have heard the silence in response.

I don’t know what to do.

I just want it to end.

I cry in my soul.

I am tired.

I am weak.

I know this pain will never end.

Repetitious Deaths Of A Pained Soul Never End

I am killing her once again.

I should have known it would never work.

I am killing her once again.

No one understands, they grin and smirk.

I am killing her once again.

I thought I could trust the one I love to understand.

I am killing her once again.

I should have known it could not be in this land.

I am killing her once again.

I know that she will come creeping back.

I am killing her once again.

My heart will be broken, torn by a huge crack.

I am killing her once again.

This world for me is a cruel, dark place.

I am killing her once again.

This is an effort to once again hide her face.

I am killing her once again.

I am disappointed, hurt, wanting to be free.

I am killing her once again.

People just don’t understand that she is me.

I am killing myself again.

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. 

Regret

No postings about my book today, sorry, I have been lazy this week when it comes to editing.  I do however have a little piece I wrote to share with you.  Sorry if it is a downer but that is the way things are sometimes.

Regret.  That is all that there seems to be in life sometimes, regret.  Should have, could have, would have.  I find myself saying those phrases over and over when looking back at the life that I have lived, a life of regret.  Oh the things I would have done differently if I knew the things I knew now.  All those times that I froze up when instead I should have spoken up to let people know how I truly feel.  Now all there is regret.  Regret at times long gone, that will never be returned to me.  Regret for never being able to be who I want to be due to my choices in life.  Regret for all the opportunities I wasted to become what I have always desired yet never had the courage to make happen. 

My life is regret.  Time is too late now to change a thing.  Sometimes I pray to God that he will take me home just so I won’t have to suffer with these feelings anymore.  It’s not that I have a bad life; I actually have a rather good life considering all the things in my past that I regret.  But in looking back I also see the fact that if I had done those things I regret not doing when I had the chance, I would not be who I am today.  Am I doomed to forever feel regret for my past that will forever prevent me from being who I always wished to be?  Or will I, one day be content with what I have now due to those past choices that have led me to where I am in my life?