You Will Never Belong
Just some genderqueer stuff. Welcome to my inner struggle with gender identity and penis envy.
My inner world really is a slurry of chaotic thoughts often mixed into a giant whirlpool of fuck-all.
Sometimes the only way I can share how people make me feel, is through my art or my writing. I just can't say it, for some reason.
And even so, there's so much going on I never could write or draw it all, to tell all of you, and for that I am sorry. But I do kinda try. Kinda. And I say kinda for the same thing I mention in the writing itself - many can't handle it, if I did fully unleash. Too much hurt.
I will start listening to some of you though. I am strong. Any ONE of the things I'd been through in the past, would cause most others to crumble. And yet there are so many different things all in one. And yet, I can still stand. And smile. I am not weak.
Apologies if I didn't categorize this correctly, I'm not a literature genius. I just wrote what my heart spoke. That is how I write. No planning. No rough drafts. Just the flow. Take it or leave it.
They walked along the empty pathway alone, pondering to themselves. Their eyes empty and distant as they drifted through their thoughts. Though their eyes worked fine aside from the typical blindness that occurs from having astigmatism, the only eye they could see through presently was the one within their mind. Minds-eye. Their eyes were hazed as they continued to walk, though aware of their surroundings enough to avoid injury as they consciously walked, they were so deep within thought, hours could pass and they would be completely unaware, due to their daydream. . . Although not blissfully so.
The empty path was wrought with boulders and random trees trying to break their way through the tough soil. On the right was a steep hill heading upwards, too dry and loose to climb. The left was a sudden drop over a cliff heading down to the valley below. It looked dry and depraved of water for some time, save for the lone creek cutting through the barren landscape. One would wonder why or how such a weak and pathetic person would be in such a harsh, ugly landscape.
Their thoughts were set ablaze with doubt and hurt. As the being walked onward, in their head loudly echoed the voices of loved ones. . . "You're can tell us what you are thinking. . . You can tell us how you feel. . . You can tell us when you fall. . . " but there was an empty smile upon their face as these thoughts drifted. Normally, one would feel warm, and lifted from hearing from loved ones such encouragements. However, they knew all too well that these were empty promises. False hopes. These were lies that the loves ones told themselves to feel better, rather than to help this one.
How was this being so sure these were lies? Because every time the being believed them, and gave in, and told them the full truth to how they were feeling, the loved ones would either crumble, fight back, or fall silent. Never encouraging. Never sweet or understanding. Never a tight holding hug and reassurances that despite how broken and useless you are, they still love you. Instead, they try to convince you they had it the same, or even worse, so that you have no reason to hurt anymore. They try to unjustify your hurt. Unknowingly. And you know they mean no harm, but you are getting tired of this damn pride they have in themselves to want to be your hero when the matter of fact is they god damn simply dan't.
They continued to walk onward until the path took a sharp turn, leaving a boulder just off of the trail overlooking the vast barren valley. The figure stood upon the boulder, placed their hands in their pockets and sighed emptily. Their blank eyes scanning the landscape as their inner thoughts continued. In their head they struggled to get the last person who told them to open up, about their inner world. The person turned their back to them, and changed the subject. The being was then denied their own thoughts and feelings once more, from this person they loved, who had told them to share and be open in the first place. Another one who thought they could handle your hurt, but either couldn't, or once they knew how heavy it once, decided right then and there that they did not want to.
They let themselves fall onto their behind, and thusly onto the large boulder. Leaning back onto their hands for support, they allowed their legs to hang from the rock and over the barren land. No life was present in the valley and the sun had already set not too long ago. The sky was a shade of teal stained with motor oil, causing it to have a rusty brown mix. As their thoughts crossed their loved ones once again they sighed and leaned forward, placing their face in their hands with a sigh and holding themselves up with their elbows. The being cringed in anguish as their thoughts once again returned to the lies from their loved ones.
_All these times. . . . They thought to themselves, all these times they have told me they can handle me sharing my pain, and all these times i try to trust them. And yet, every time i open up, they can't handle it. I don't know if they forget that i can often feel what they are feeling, and thus when they tell me they can handle it or are fine i don't believe them because they go quiet or just fall to pieces when they hear. And it isn't even always negative, even my thoughts on the very essence of life itself or reality is too much. They get so quiet. Or give such short, heartless answers. How can any of then understand or even really. . . . FEEL? I am alone in this, for these ones can not handle the divinity i have been cursed with. A blessing in that my intuition allows me to understand, a curse in that i am alone.
I have been blessed in that i am almost for ever bathing in the divine stream. Constant knowledge flows through me, though i am not often aware what to do with or even how to use this knowledge. The feelings that flow through me are so wondrous and pure. . . But those here do not love nor appreciate it. When i speak of things that come to me from the divine stream, they get so quiet, so distant, and look away. . . It hurts. I can feel they wish me to turn it off. I myself, wish to turn it off. I even wish i had no divinity, for those who aren't so open to the feminine energies fit in so much easier. . . . And all i have ever wanted, indeed, is to fit in. . ._
The being looked up at the now darkened sky, tears in their eyes as they had traveled through so many different memories and personal wishes on the previous notion alone, some time had passed. Stars glistened against the black abyss. . . . "I wish i was a man. . ." The being said aloud as they raised their chin to the sky, hot tears streaming down their cheeks, through their mind now flashed all the times that were hard, and how much easier they would have been, if only testosterone flowed more naturally and fully through these accursed veins; how the father of this one would have been more proud and loving of who they are today, if they only had a different set of chromosomes, how their own siblings would have been more accepting of the type of person they were, and even the very people that they were in love with today. . . . How many people they knew and still know would have been and even be much better friends today. . . Everything would have been easier, and everyone would have been easier on this one. . . If this one was biologically male.
As childish and primitive as this one always thought boys vs girls was, never in their life, until recently, had they ever even acknowledged it was a thing, or realized it was. This one had to play the boy growing up, when with other kids, because other kids were prettier and girls were prettier, boys more rugged. So i was the boy, because i was a biologically ugly and rugged girl. But growing up once this one had lost friends, there was no other role to fill but its own. And it, biologically. . . . Is female. But not pretty enough to be. And not allowed, to be, with out ridicule.
Cover up. Hide your shame. Bind your chest. Hide your feelings.
_If you are a man, you have to be tough and not cry or feel anything. You feel to much, so you can not be a man.
If you are a woman, you must be pretty, perfect, petite, flawless, gentle. You are not and have never been pretty or any of those things.
You will never belong anywhere. . ._
The being held themselves and cried until their physical form gave in to exhaustion, and they faded into unconsciousness right there on the barren rocks, under the bare night sky.