Ugh, shower too hot. Sleep messed up. I feel really disorientated, like I can't trust my own thought, or if I tried to write then my grammar would be all messed up. I only realised half way through that sentence that I am writing. See what I mean?
I think I might go for a walk.
OK walked. I'm wearing a girl shirt. It's a wonderful shirt, and I feel okay wearing it. I'm going to have to grind down that fear of having other people see me in it, but I'm wearing it for just wearing rather than camwhoring, and I went outside my room, so it's downhill from here I hope!
Also, I need to get over my weirdness with boys.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Steve - Feels Pretty
Listenin' to Psapp, wearing my Psapp shirt.
Today the world and I feel beautiful.
:)
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Steve - Is Overworked
So much work. I can feel myself burning out. Actually, what I can feel is that sensation of the fire-hoses being turned on in me, and all motivation towards work fading away into apathy. Recovery mode, I suppose. This isn't good, because I still have lots of work to do.
I've been sleeping loads, too.
Yesterday I made an order at an alt-clothing site. I bought 7 items, four of them clothes, amounting to just under £70. I've been being good with money so I can do these things, I guess? *shrug* It was more weakness. Anyway, the point is that none of them were men's clothes. I once read about concepts that, once you realise them, you can never go back, you are never the same again. A couple of people have chastised me for introducing such concepts to them, but anyway. For example, when one considers what freedom means, what freedom really is, one can never go back to the ignorance-is-bliss state they were in before. They are either depressed by the fact that they are not really free, or empowered by the will to gain that freedom.
It's the same with me and sex, I think. The more I think about my sex, the longer I am alive and not feeling happy being a man, the more I am compelled to do things about it. Reading about it, talking about it, pretending to be female online, writing about it in considerable depth, small acts of genderplay (I've got red nails at the moment, I like to pretend they're a girl's hands. My peers find the striking red nails and the lazy growth of facial hair to be quite a disturbing clash), and now... well, still relatively small genderplays, but greater than before.
I've been trying to think of a name. It's been on my mind for a month or two now. I really like the name Amy, but I know an Amy so that wouldn't be good. I figured I might call myself something neuter. Maybe a colour, or the name of a disease, or a mineral, or a plant, I dunno. It's the easiest lie to tell, really. I want to see someone just... eat it up, completely.
I've been sleeping loads, too.
Yesterday I made an order at an alt-clothing site. I bought 7 items, four of them clothes, amounting to just under £70. I've been being good with money so I can do these things, I guess? *shrug* It was more weakness. Anyway, the point is that none of them were men's clothes. I once read about concepts that, once you realise them, you can never go back, you are never the same again. A couple of people have chastised me for introducing such concepts to them, but anyway. For example, when one considers what freedom means, what freedom really is, one can never go back to the ignorance-is-bliss state they were in before. They are either depressed by the fact that they are not really free, or empowered by the will to gain that freedom.
It's the same with me and sex, I think. The more I think about my sex, the longer I am alive and not feeling happy being a man, the more I am compelled to do things about it. Reading about it, talking about it, pretending to be female online, writing about it in considerable depth, small acts of genderplay (I've got red nails at the moment, I like to pretend they're a girl's hands. My peers find the striking red nails and the lazy growth of facial hair to be quite a disturbing clash), and now... well, still relatively small genderplays, but greater than before.
I've been trying to think of a name. It's been on my mind for a month or two now. I really like the name Amy, but I know an Amy so that wouldn't be good. I figured I might call myself something neuter. Maybe a colour, or the name of a disease, or a mineral, or a plant, I dunno. It's the easiest lie to tell, really. I want to see someone just... eat it up, completely.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Steve - Is Angry
I'm going to use this place to document my anger now. At least it's more productive than fucking depression all the damned time.
I'm so... upset with the world, with my culture specifically I guess. It's pathetic. It really really is. I'm talking, of course, about recreational drugs (inc. alcohol).
Here's a hint: if you don't feel something, perhaps you shouldn't be. If you want to feel euphoric, go seek out something substantial, something real, something that will build you or your world rather than trash your very limited time. There are feelings drugs cannot give you, and they are all the better for it. They are genuine, experienced only by people who are truly experiencing. Even and especially the feelings drugs can give you are far more important when they are in context.
Imagine a life without whatever your drugs of choice are, and then you'll see what's wrong. What would you do if there weren't any drugs to act as pressure valves? FUCKING DO IT. I am so sick of being cheated out of living life with company because other people would rather settle for the easy option and fortify their pointless lives with drugs than actually fucking... live.
Go fucking dancing, go listen to music so loud you can only hear the beat, go medicate your mediocrity away. It's fucking pathetic. I am so close to just blanket giving up on drug-sluts. I don't have enough life to waste on you.
In fact, it's not even drugs at all. It's people who are too fucking spineless to actually LIVE, drugs are just a painful, obvious, and debasing reminder that this is the case. Forget your career [aspirations], your parents, social pressures, whatever it takes, and do what you actually want to do. Otherwise, kill yourself, because it hurts so much to see you going to waste.
I hope we can share it, but it doesn't seem likely.
I can't describe how much this hurts me.
I'm so... upset with the world, with my culture specifically I guess. It's pathetic. It really really is. I'm talking, of course, about recreational drugs (inc. alcohol).
Here's a hint: if you don't feel something, perhaps you shouldn't be. If you want to feel euphoric, go seek out something substantial, something real, something that will build you or your world rather than trash your very limited time. There are feelings drugs cannot give you, and they are all the better for it. They are genuine, experienced only by people who are truly experiencing. Even and especially the feelings drugs can give you are far more important when they are in context.
Imagine a life without whatever your drugs of choice are, and then you'll see what's wrong. What would you do if there weren't any drugs to act as pressure valves? FUCKING DO IT. I am so sick of being cheated out of living life with company because other people would rather settle for the easy option and fortify their pointless lives with drugs than actually fucking... live.
Go fucking dancing, go listen to music so loud you can only hear the beat, go medicate your mediocrity away. It's fucking pathetic. I am so close to just blanket giving up on drug-sluts. I don't have enough life to waste on you.
In fact, it's not even drugs at all. It's people who are too fucking spineless to actually LIVE, drugs are just a painful, obvious, and debasing reminder that this is the case. Forget your career [aspirations], your parents, social pressures, whatever it takes, and do what you actually want to do. Otherwise, kill yourself, because it hurts so much to see you going to waste.
I hope we can share it, but it doesn't seem likely.
I can't describe how much this hurts me.
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