I Hate Myself
I know I am strange. I know I don't fit in. It doesn't bother me anymore and I mean that in all honesty and not in that I'm lying to myself kind of way people say things. A few years ago I posted on a bad night where I felt all of my shortcomings but none of my successes. I was a goody two shoes freak. I wanted so badly to fit in somewhere, anywhere, even if only for a moment. I wanted someone, anyone, to understand how I felt.
I was always the person you could call on to help. I believed and still believe that if I can help a friend in need I should and I shall. If I see someone in need and I can help I should and I shall. Be it a friend who has a pet cat who needs to have his jaw wired to save his life and save her best feline friend, of the old guy who lives in the apartments near my house who walks to the store and could use a ride, especially when the weather is bad. I've never been able to ignore them to act like my own problems overshadowed any concern of others. I hope I never do.
Sometimes I still hate myself. I still can't keep up with my ideals. I get angry, so angry I feel the urge to hurt something, someone, destroy, throw something, anything, just the have an outlet for the anger I feel. I hate that about myself, it reminds me of my father, who would hit, who would drink, who would take out his frustrations on others, on others who couldn't run, or hide, or take out their frustrations on anything. I meditate, I take deep breaths, but it comes, the anger, and I deal with it as best I can.
Sometimes I wonder why I can't be normal. I'm a transman, meaning I was born biologically female and I live as a male. It makes me weary to become close to people. Can they tell? Would they tell? Would they hate me if they knew? Would everything I've worked so hard for vanish if it become known? Why can't I be normal? Life would be simpler, easier, if only I was normal. I would have to lie to be truthful to myself, or lie to myself to be seen as truthful to other people.
I haven't had a date in years, and after the depression and sorrow that followed my first brush with love I both miss that feeling fo being in love and fear, dread, and hide from the possible and probably inevitable pain of falling in love ever again, especially considering that I am a transman. I think that this is an example of ignorance is bliss. If I had never known love, I wouldn't long for it.
Things haven't changed much over the years. I bought a tiny house in a small town halfway to family and halfway to my job. I walk my dogs. I tend my small garden. I draw and paint. I read a lot. Sometimes I'll watch a movie. It isn't an exciting life but it is something I have carved out on my own and I am content with it. I'm still afraid. What if my neighbors found out, what if I will never amount to anything, will I always feel this lonely when I am around people? More lonely than when I am actually alone?
All I can do is keep trying. Sometimes I still hate myself, not as much as I did years ago, I've come to terms with some things. I just hope one day I won't hate myself. That I can simply be content.
I was always the person you could call on to help. I believed and still believe that if I can help a friend in need I should and I shall. If I see someone in need and I can help I should and I shall. Be it a friend who has a pet cat who needs to have his jaw wired to save his life and save her best feline friend, of the old guy who lives in the apartments near my house who walks to the store and could use a ride, especially when the weather is bad. I've never been able to ignore them to act like my own problems overshadowed any concern of others. I hope I never do.
Sometimes I still hate myself. I still can't keep up with my ideals. I get angry, so angry I feel the urge to hurt something, someone, destroy, throw something, anything, just the have an outlet for the anger I feel. I hate that about myself, it reminds me of my father, who would hit, who would drink, who would take out his frustrations on others, on others who couldn't run, or hide, or take out their frustrations on anything. I meditate, I take deep breaths, but it comes, the anger, and I deal with it as best I can.
Sometimes I wonder why I can't be normal. I'm a transman, meaning I was born biologically female and I live as a male. It makes me weary to become close to people. Can they tell? Would they tell? Would they hate me if they knew? Would everything I've worked so hard for vanish if it become known? Why can't I be normal? Life would be simpler, easier, if only I was normal. I would have to lie to be truthful to myself, or lie to myself to be seen as truthful to other people.
I haven't had a date in years, and after the depression and sorrow that followed my first brush with love I both miss that feeling fo being in love and fear, dread, and hide from the possible and probably inevitable pain of falling in love ever again, especially considering that I am a transman. I think that this is an example of ignorance is bliss. If I had never known love, I wouldn't long for it.
Things haven't changed much over the years. I bought a tiny house in a small town halfway to family and halfway to my job. I walk my dogs. I tend my small garden. I draw and paint. I read a lot. Sometimes I'll watch a movie. It isn't an exciting life but it is something I have carved out on my own and I am content with it. I'm still afraid. What if my neighbors found out, what if I will never amount to anything, will I always feel this lonely when I am around people? More lonely than when I am actually alone?
All I can do is keep trying. Sometimes I still hate myself, not as much as I did years ago, I've come to terms with some things. I just hope one day I won't hate myself. That I can simply be content.
By:
seafall
Age:
22-25
