Innocence Stolen

The night is silent…

I can hear him breathing out.

The darkness calls him…

Surrounding dangers abound.

I hear him whisper…

He’s calling out to me.

He says come closer…

And I turn to run.

I see a blade flash, as it goes past.

I hear him laughing at me.

He’s just toying now…

Predator after prey.

My heart’s beating loud…

The sound gives me away.

I’m in the shadows now…

Silently I pray.

He finds me somehow…

I turn to run, he’s having fun.

I see a blade flash, as it goes past.

I hear him laughing at me.

I start to stumble, my hands fumble.

Soon he’s on top of me.

There’s nothing I can do…

My life is through.

Blade pierces my flesh…

I gasp for breath.

He can see my pain…

He enters again.

The world fades to black…

I feel him pulling back.

I see a blade flash, as it goes past.

I hear him laughing at me.

I start to stumble, my hands fumble.

Soon he’s on top of me.

Virginal white now red, I have bleed.

Innocence stolen from me.

This is the end…

I wish my life had never begun.

Broken I lie…

Wishing that I could die.

He leaves me now…

His damage done for now.

He’ll be back again…

Though I know not when.

I see a blade flash, as it goes past.

I hear him laughing at me.

I start to stumble, my hands fumble.

Soon he’s on top of me.

Virginal white now red, I have bleed.

Innocence stolen from me.

My heart crumbles, my mind tumbles.

A shell is all that’s left of me.

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.

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. 

Message to God #2

Have you ever seen a sky so blue as the one we lie under right now?

I feel it calling to me, reaching out to pluck me from this earth.

Have you ever seen an ocean so clear as the one we are floating on?

I hear the depths calling my name, calling me home.

Have you ever seen a night so black as the one in my soul?

It grips my heart, clenching and squeezing, consuming it whole.

Have you ever heard a cry so sad as the one to pass from my lips?

It aches and breaks me, ripping me down to the moment of my birth.

Have you ever felt so betrayed as I do because of you?

You broke me before I ever had a chance, no choice was given.

Have you ever cursed someone as I now curse you?

You did this, you will never make it right, you just don’t understand.

How does it feel to know that I am your mistake and I hate you for it?

I hope it burns you to your very core because you deserve no less.

How do you feel when you see me, knowing I will never forgive?

I hope it hurts you in a way that you will never recover from.

Message to God #1

You said you'd lift me up.

You said you'd hold my hand.

You said you'd take my pain,

Make me understand.

You said you'd cover me.

You said you'd fill my need.

You said you'd always care,

You stand there as I bleed.

I thought you had my back,

but now I bleed from it.

I thought you loved me,

But you don't give a shit!

You fucked me over.

You set me up to fail.

You enjoy my misery,

In my personal hell.

What the fuck did I do?

Do to deserve this all?

Did you build me up,

Just to watch me fall?

I can't believe I trusted you!

You always hated me!

You made me your joke,

This truth I see!

I Am Who I Am

No teasers of the novel today, sorry, but I do have an update on it.  I just finished editing Chapter 17 and have started on Chapter 18 which I hope to have done by the end of tonight.  I have thought about giving the individual chapters titles (something that I absolutely adore in other books such as the Parasol Protectorate novels) but I am not sure if I should or not.  I would like to have witty and lighthearted chapter titles but that might not work since the book isn’t that lighthearted.  After all one of the characters is perhaps one of the most unfortunate characters I have ever met.  The things that this woman has been through in her many years of existence would shatter and break the minds of most, yet she perseveres.  She is actually one of the more optimistic characters in the story, yet I think somewhere deep inside there is battered and broken individual who is putting a brave face forward.  But this is me speculating, I haven’t gotten to know her very well due to the small role she has in this book. 

The second book on the other hand should be interesting since I will get a lot more time to spend in her head.  Not that I have started on the second book yet, just saying.  Speaking of the second book, I am going to have four main characters in it.  Two of them I have given you, my dear readers a glimpse of… That would be Jonah and the previously mentioned woman (See previous paragraph), Sephira. The other two are Alissa (she is a big player in the first novel) and the mysterious Doctor Sliss, an Ibian who joins the three main characters at the end of book one, but what is her true purpose?  Anyways, here is the real reason I posted… Enjoy.

I am who I am.  That will never change.  I don’t like what I am.  That will never change.  Very few people know the struggle that I live with every day of my life, even fewer know about the real me.  I want to be free to be me, but I know that that will never happen.  I want to shout from the rooftops, tell the world who I am inside, shatter the illusion I maintain for the sake of society.  I want to tell the world so that I don’t have to pretend anymore.  I want to be able to be who I am not who people think I should be.  I want to break these chains that I have placed on myself to hold me in, shatter them and scatter them to the corners of the earth, but that will never happen.

The world is a dangerous place for people like me.  We have no place that we belong, no place to retreat to when the world is out to get us.  Once the world finds out who we are then it is only a matter of time before we find ourselves beaten and bloody, sometimes physically, sometimes mentally and sometimes spiritually.  The places that we once could go to escape, places that are supposed to be filled with family and love, are shut off.   There is no escape at that point, no way to get away, no place to retreat too.  We are truly alone.

I have to hide myself, tuck my true self into a corner, not letting the world see me for what I truly am.  I do this partially out of fear and partially out of shame.  I’m afraid of what people will think I’m afraid of how they will treat me if only they knew.  I am ashamed of the fear that plagues me.  It causes me to be miserable in my life.  Maybe one day I will revel myself to the world, but that is going to be no time soon.  For now I just sit in this shell and wait, living the lie I live.  No one suspects, no one knows, no one sees, the real me.

The Reflection of Me

I know how much all of you who read my blog are looking forward to more info on my novel, but unfortunately for you that is not what you are getting today.  Sorry to disappoint but just trust me when I say, the editing process is still moving along, though at a slower pace.  When I get done with this edit I am going to let some proof readers at it before I start the second edit... so there, now you at least have a little novel update.

The reflection of me that I see in the mirror is not a reflection on you, Mother.  There is no sense in blaming yourself for the way I turned out.  You couldn’t help the fact that I have felt the way that I have felt throughout the years.  I’m broken and scared of the way I feel but there is nothing I can do to change.  How I wish I had been able to articulate my desires and feelings to you and Dad so that maybe something would have been done to change the way things turned out.  Would you have listened?  Would you have taken me seriously?  Or would you have just hoped that I would grow out of it, saying that it was just a phase that I was going through?  I don’t know, but I do know that it is my fault for not telling you when I should have.  Due to these faults of my own, depression weighs in, burdening my soul. 

The reflection of me I see in the mirror is a reflection of how you, God, made me.  I look to you for answers yet you are silent.  I want to know why, why me?  Why did you do this to me?  Why am I so weak that I could not be honest with my parents about who I am inside?  Was there reason for me to fear their reaction the way that I did?  If so, then why couldn’t you put me with someone who would have been more approachable?  I hate you sometimes for what you have done to me and I want to make you feel the pain that I feel for what you have done to me.  I feel like the cosmic joke that exists only for your amusement and I despise you for it.  Say something damn it!  Tell me why!  I hate you so much I could cry but I won’t give you the satisfaction of seeing my tears.  It’s not my parents fault I who I am today, the fault lies with you and me. 

The reflection I see when I look in the mirror is not a reflection of me instead it is a stranger I see.