(please excuse this blah, it demanded to be written.)
I grew up not knowing exactly what I wanted, so I never asked for it. But people kept asking, so I just took whatever they offered me and eventually they thought that they knew what I wanted. By the time I knew the words for exactly what I wanted, I had gotten myself stuck in a place where I couldn't say anything. I had built up this world, this mask, this personality for my whole life. My family all thought I was a certain kind of person, and never had any hint that I was any different from what they thought. And I didn't want to disappoint them, I kept living that way, acting the part.
You all have no idea what a wonderful actor I am. I could make you believe anything. Anything except the truth. For some reason, whenever I hint at the truth, you stop believing me. I get weird looks, concerned glances, quiet whispers two rooms away. Whenever I start to tell the truth, you think I'm starting to lie.
By the time I knew how to tell my mom that no, I don't understand why I am a "girl" and my brother is a "boy;" that no, I don't want a baby doll because I want to be a mom, I want to be a dad; that I would rather get a RC car than a special-edition Barbie, but she's nice too; I had already built up a certain image with her.
I dressed in girly costumes because society told me to. I took ballet because all the other girls in my Girl Scout troupe did too. I was in Girl Scouts because the other girls in my class were. I wanted to do what other girls did because they were nicer than the boys and I was so alone.
I was so alone. And no one ever asked, "are you lonely?" or "who do you hang out with at recess?" And no one told me it was okay to tell the truth, because my lies made you happy and if you were happy, you smiled at me and bought chocolate ice cream on the way home and I was seven. I don't know how to make you understand that I have always been kind of a boy, but that I lived my whole life under a lie and yes, I am just beginning to get it, and no, I don't know what made me realize it. Not completely.
Please don't ever ask me again, "Do you mean that, or are you just saying it to make me happy?" I have, and will continue, to exist solely for your happiness. It's one of two things I have ever wanted. The other is for myself to be happy, but if I can't do that without ruining you, I might just stop trying to be happy. For your sake.
If that makes me less of a person, or stupid, or whatever, I don't care. As long as you are happy.
You all have no idea what a wonderful actor I am. I could make you believe anything. Anything except the truth. For some reason, whenever I hint at the truth, you stop believing me. I get weird looks, concerned glances, quiet whispers two rooms away. Whenever I start to tell the truth, you think I'm starting to lie.
By the time I knew how to tell my mom that no, I don't understand why I am a "girl" and my brother is a "boy;" that no, I don't want a baby doll because I want to be a mom, I want to be a dad; that I would rather get a RC car than a special-edition Barbie, but she's nice too; I had already built up a certain image with her.
I dressed in girly costumes because society told me to. I took ballet because all the other girls in my Girl Scout troupe did too. I was in Girl Scouts because the other girls in my class were. I wanted to do what other girls did because they were nicer than the boys and I was so alone.
I was so alone. And no one ever asked, "are you lonely?" or "who do you hang out with at recess?" And no one told me it was okay to tell the truth, because my lies made you happy and if you were happy, you smiled at me and bought chocolate ice cream on the way home and I was seven. I don't know how to make you understand that I have always been kind of a boy, but that I lived my whole life under a lie and yes, I am just beginning to get it, and no, I don't know what made me realize it. Not completely.
Please don't ever ask me again, "Do you mean that, or are you just saying it to make me happy?" I have, and will continue, to exist solely for your happiness. It's one of two things I have ever wanted. The other is for myself to be happy, but if I can't do that without ruining you, I might just stop trying to be happy. For your sake.
If that makes me less of a person, or stupid, or whatever, I don't care. As long as you are happy.