Making Lemonade from Life's Lemons Doesn't Taste that Great
If you guys don't remember the last time I used this icon, the entry wasn't too happy. I try to have an icon for each type of post. This one is for when I feel like the world is crashing down on me.
Many of you don't know this. I was seeing someone my senior year of HS. Well I can't even say senior year. He died in November. He died of AIDS. Sad, right? No, I don't have HIV or AIDS. Maybe this can give some insight into why I am so particular about telling people they need to have safe sex and be tested regularly. I got lucky, he didn't. Anyway, he was the last person I truly loved. I mean like, loved. Like, as in the one person who made me whole. When I last saw him, he gave me a ring of his. Many of you may notice I am rarely without a ring on my left middle finger. It has a black stone on it. That's his. Well recently, his younger sister has been hounding me for his ring. She has been pretty mad at me cause I never went to the funeral and the fact I got money for college, not a lot, from a small short story I wrote about us where I embellished certain things and didn't use his real name. She's mad because she thinks I didn't truly love him. She gets this opinion because I couldn't bear to see him in the hospital. So she has developed the courage that express she deserves his ring, not me. And this kills me. No, I don't think I should give it to her. Its more, how do I say this? You see, one of my biggest regrets was not being at his funeral or being there for him at the hospital. The other regret is that I kept our relationship up until after he passed. And just hearing her say I never truly loved her has racked me with guilt.
The second issue I am struggling with is my family. More and more I realize that being home for any extended period of time is nothing but bad news for me. All it does is make me feel extremely stressed out, upset, hurt, like a freak, etc. The list is endless and none of it is good. They treat me like a small child. Raise of hands, how many of you can access your own bank account and withdraw money from it? How many of you have an 11pm curfew? How many of you have a house key? I have neither of these. And the growing issue is the fact that they hang their hats on how being 21 is not about privileges like the ones I listed. Its about paying for haircuts and the sandwiches my mom makes me for work. Its about getting up at 8 or 9am when there is nothing to do. Its about being able to do a 1/2 hour walk home after working a 9 hour shift. Its about them telling me how long my hair should be or how I can't shave my legs. As long as I live in this house I am not my own person. I am their's. Worse yet, it means I feel further and further away from being Alexandra. I know, I know. I am Alexandra and they can't change that. But physically, I will always regard myself as male. Mentally? Well its hard to be confident about your gender when your masculinity is constantly thrown back in your face.
Some days I am fine. I feel great. Whether it is because I saw a friend, had a good run in L4D, or whatever. But the bad days are bad. And they don't seem to be getting any better. And the good days are more aptly called good moments. I mean, I am looking at possibly not having enough money to do anything I want. I barely have enough money to go in to the city for the Trans Pride Rally on June 26th and to go to the NYC Pride Parade on June 28th. Even if I go, I won't have the cash to do any sort of shopping at all, let alone drinking. I'm not cute enough to hope someone will buy me a drink. Heck, I don't know if I'll even be allowed to go. Then there is the fact that I want to go to my friend Jizzle's for a minute, but that won't work out because of cost and probably, once again, because of lack of permission. And I'll break down and sob if I can't go to my friends Tim and Roshi's wedding shin dig on August 8th. These are things I should look forward to and be happy about. Not dread the dates coming up in fear of not being able to go.
I really wish I never gave Shayna all my scissors. I wish I didn't give away my butterfly knife. I wish I had the courage not to want to hurt myself. But I guess I'm happy all I have to do is leave my bedroom and go down the steps and there are a plethera of options for me to use. I just wish someone was physically here to hold me down and stop me.
Today's song. Wish it was happier
Many of you don't know this. I was seeing someone my senior year of HS. Well I can't even say senior year. He died in November. He died of AIDS. Sad, right? No, I don't have HIV or AIDS. Maybe this can give some insight into why I am so particular about telling people they need to have safe sex and be tested regularly. I got lucky, he didn't. Anyway, he was the last person I truly loved. I mean like, loved. Like, as in the one person who made me whole. When I last saw him, he gave me a ring of his. Many of you may notice I am rarely without a ring on my left middle finger. It has a black stone on it. That's his. Well recently, his younger sister has been hounding me for his ring. She has been pretty mad at me cause I never went to the funeral and the fact I got money for college, not a lot, from a small short story I wrote about us where I embellished certain things and didn't use his real name. She's mad because she thinks I didn't truly love him. She gets this opinion because I couldn't bear to see him in the hospital. So she has developed the courage that express she deserves his ring, not me. And this kills me. No, I don't think I should give it to her. Its more, how do I say this? You see, one of my biggest regrets was not being at his funeral or being there for him at the hospital. The other regret is that I kept our relationship up until after he passed. And just hearing her say I never truly loved her has racked me with guilt.
The second issue I am struggling with is my family. More and more I realize that being home for any extended period of time is nothing but bad news for me. All it does is make me feel extremely stressed out, upset, hurt, like a freak, etc. The list is endless and none of it is good. They treat me like a small child. Raise of hands, how many of you can access your own bank account and withdraw money from it? How many of you have an 11pm curfew? How many of you have a house key? I have neither of these. And the growing issue is the fact that they hang their hats on how being 21 is not about privileges like the ones I listed. Its about paying for haircuts and the sandwiches my mom makes me for work. Its about getting up at 8 or 9am when there is nothing to do. Its about being able to do a 1/2 hour walk home after working a 9 hour shift. Its about them telling me how long my hair should be or how I can't shave my legs. As long as I live in this house I am not my own person. I am their's. Worse yet, it means I feel further and further away from being Alexandra. I know, I know. I am Alexandra and they can't change that. But physically, I will always regard myself as male. Mentally? Well its hard to be confident about your gender when your masculinity is constantly thrown back in your face.
Some days I am fine. I feel great. Whether it is because I saw a friend, had a good run in L4D, or whatever. But the bad days are bad. And they don't seem to be getting any better. And the good days are more aptly called good moments. I mean, I am looking at possibly not having enough money to do anything I want. I barely have enough money to go in to the city for the Trans Pride Rally on June 26th and to go to the NYC Pride Parade on June 28th. Even if I go, I won't have the cash to do any sort of shopping at all, let alone drinking. I'm not cute enough to hope someone will buy me a drink. Heck, I don't know if I'll even be allowed to go. Then there is the fact that I want to go to my friend Jizzle's for a minute, but that won't work out because of cost and probably, once again, because of lack of permission. And I'll break down and sob if I can't go to my friends Tim and Roshi's wedding shin dig on August 8th. These are things I should look forward to and be happy about. Not dread the dates coming up in fear of not being able to go.
I really wish I never gave Shayna all my scissors. I wish I didn't give away my butterfly knife. I wish I had the courage not to want to hurt myself. But I guess I'm happy all I have to do is leave my bedroom and go down the steps and there are a plethera of options for me to use. I just wish someone was physically here to hold me down and stop me.
Click to viewToday's song. Wish it was happier