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No longer can I hold all of my s**t inside, and no longer is the paper large enough to fit everything I have to say. So much of the lost parts of myself I’ve mourned and so many tears I’ve fought so long that they can’t even stand the fight to come out. So here it goes; my life in a nutshell, or at least all the parts that I’ve hid and given in increments for so long.
When I was a little kid, still in the day-care days, I would fall asleep everynight praying to awake as a boy, and everymorning disappointment would surge through me as I found I was still female. Now, back then I didn’t know about the appendage difference, but every morning I knew I was a girl.
Even at that tender age I was a natural liar. It came to me so smoothly that it was practically a birth defect. The same way that people are born with adhd and gay, I was born a pathological liar. Actually, I was born all three. Whether that’s a gift or a curse, I’ll wonder forever. Until I know for certain, I’ll just chill.
I never liked boys as more than friends. I’d force a slight attraction to one for the sake of normalcy, but never could I actually like one like I like girls. Since I was in the fourth or fifth grade I’ve noticed girls as sweet or cute. Then in the sixth grade it was pretty evident that I was a lesbian. Or at least to myself. Never could I let anyone know. In fact, I became uncontrollably depressed in the sixth grade due to the fact that I knew I was different. I would act out in class, I would hate myself, I would think of killing others.
Then in the seventh grade, when I was in serious denial, around the second semester I could no longer keep the secret of myself and wanted to take my own life. I would think about it so often; about how I could die and end it all and never have to admit that I had a problem and never have to reveal how different and unholy I was. But then the best thing that could happen to me happened.
Mom and Dad would never believe me about this, but Alex may have saved my life. Alex came out to me in the middle/end of the seventh grade. I was trying to get back into denial in order to hide from my suicidal thoughts, but after thinking about how he could live with himself, I started to think I could live as myself and be perfectly content.
He was the first person I told. Then, as I grew comfortable and told my other friends, I lost all of my dreams of suicide and all of my yearn to cut. That is, until I realized another of my unholy traits.
As I mentioned earlier, I was a born liar. It just came so naturally, it was as easy as breathing for me. That’s probably not a normal kid’s characteristic, but I was blessed enough to have it as one of mine. Well, as I sat one night thinking about how much of my life I had wasted in denial, I thought of how much I’d lied in my entire life; to everyone including myself. The sick thing is, I believed most of my lies. In fact, I bet a lot of my memories are centered around lies I told and lived. So long I hid beneath masks of self-shame that I lost part of who I was. I think I’m starting to find it, though. But I can’t help but wonder where I’d be if I’d “been myself” all these years.
Some say that the only regrets you have to make are the risks you didn’t take, or something on the lines of that. But when I look back at my life, I can’t help but regret so much. I regret lying at such a young age. Perhaps if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t just be learning about myself since June. Sometimes I regret the things that were out of my hands. I regret being born gay. I mean, if I hadn’t been such a little tranni as a kid, maybe I wouldn’t have been so ashamed of myself as to hide behind lies for so long. Maybe if I hadn’t hid so much or been more honest my entire life, my parents would believe me when I came out multiple times.
So many things I wonder and regret. I mean, so much of my life I would take back if I had the chance, and it’s too easy to count the things I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t take back my choice to play the sax. I wouldn’t take back running through the glass door; it’s proof that I can live through things, physical and mental in the end. I wouldn’t take back my friendships, because they saved my life in the long run.
But I would take back everything else. I would take back all of the misbehavior. I would take back all the anger, lies, impulses that hurt me in the end. I would trade so much of my past for a new beginning. But I can’t. so this is who I am; a depressed teenager suffering from insomnia due to all of these racing thoughts of my past.
 the_forgotten_thought · Fri Sep 19, 2008 @ 06:11am · 1 Comments |
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