Sometimes I want to fit in and act and try to look the gender im supposed to be but it fucking sucks!! Every time I'm reminded how awful it makes me feel jednak kocham być homo niewiadomo. Iks de

Jakiej jesteś orientacji? 😁

Homo niewiadomo bo hetero to zero 😘

#3436

siema gitara! napisz tu stara! nie masz gitary? też napisz stary! myślisz: żałosne - tak pisać rymami... laski zazdrosne - walcie serduszkami! czy jest ci smutno, może chcesz umrzeć? chodź, zmarnujemy nasz czas na tumblrze! czy jesteś homo czy niewiadomo... się dogadamy - zostaw wiadomość! oby przetrwała nasza znajomość... gdy już napiszesz, panie jegomość (żeby nie było - nie musi być fiutek, aby ta przyjaźń odniosła skutek)

This is a personal post about my own identity, about some realizations I have long since been coming to, something I need to get out and organize and get off my chest, so please don't come here with any generalizing comments, or about how I'm generalizing people. This is me, my experience, my dysphoria, my life. If you want to reblog or leave a comment or something, or inbox me, or something, you're more than free to, just please, please realize that this is about a post me and my self-image alone. As a kid, I always wanted to be a scout. Always. I never did, though. We only had Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts back in Texas, and in Poland, too. Idk. It just didn't sit right with me to be included in "oh, just girls here" or "oh, just boys here." I don't like gender-separated areas, and I never did, even if I didn't know why it put me off so much. I mean, I guess I didn't know when I was that young that it was dysphoria speaking up? But as I got older, and I started to hit puberty, shit just started getting a LOT worse. I had a period of time where I decided, nope, you're DEFINITELY a cis girl, I wore so much pink it was bizarre and outrageous. I like the color still, just… I feel bad because I associate it with that period of time really intensely. So I can't wear it at all or I just… hm. It's a shame, really. It's such a nice color. But it's just tied to so many memories of trying to wipe out anything I felt that didn't fit. After that, it was a period of 'so what the fuck are you?' Anybody who knew me about two years ago knew I kept changing my mind, trying to figure out what was going on because nothing felt right. A friend had to suggest it, if maybe I wasn't just imagining things/had low self esteem/was gnc, and really, for the longest time, I wondered if I was a closeted trans boy. But while being addressed as "he" helped, it didn't feel right, either. It was SO LONG until I realized that what actually felt right wasn't the decision to use "he" or "she," it was the actual moment of hesitation, the fact that I was presenting androgynously enough for it to be unclear. It's… still really really frustrating and muddled, but I've figured out enough about reading testimonies from trans people to know that what I'm experiencing is definitely a combination of dysphoria and euphoria. Here's the thing, though. There's a distinct line between nonbinary and gender-nonconforming (gnc). Being gnc would mean that I wouldn't feel uncomfortable or wrong when somebody used a set of binary pronouns for me in accordance with my assigned sex, or even the one across the binary. You can be gnc and cis, or gnc and binary trans, and one doesn't preclude the other. And neither of those means nonbinary. It's an identity that's… okay. TMI, I guess, but ideally? In a world of people who identify as men and women, I'd like to inspect my own body, go on a character selection screen, and remove all primary and secondary sex characteristics traditionally thought of as belonging to binary genders. Penis? Wrong. Vagina? Wrong. Boobs? Wrong. Facial hair? Wrong. Hourglass figure? Wrong. "Dorito" figure? Wrong. Et cetera. Et cetera. I'd like to be freed from all of those and I don't know why it's weighing on me so heavily. Delete, delete, delete, even if it meant leaving me a near-featureless default doll. Before anybody accuses me of hating people, I don't mind any of those traits on anybody else. This is my own body I'm talking about, a truly personal experience and an idealized dream. In dreams, I am occasionally perceived as male, rarely as female. Regardless, whenever I can remember, I have always been "other" in my dreams. You know- like on multiple choice exams, 'A,' 'B,' 'C,' 'D,' 'none of the above is correct'? Like that. I first learned that nonbinary genders were a thing from a classmate. Pejoratively. Like they were other, lesser, freaks. "What do you mean, neither? You can't be neither." It was religious studies class, that I remember. Of course, that wasn't the word they used. It was "homo-niewiadomo," a partially reclaimed slur that literally translates to "homo-who knows really" and doesn't just refer to gay people but any people falling under the queer umbrella as a whole. I was torn between "what???" and this kind of "that's a thing?" My next experience was on tumblr. I met a wonderful person who actually lives in my city. We've met nowadays. Years later. I was a kid then, maybe 15? 16? They said… I don't remember what it was. Gender-questioning? Something like that? I didn't pretend to understand, not yet, but I wanted to know more. All this sounds like I've had a lot of influence, but really, so much of it was based on introspection, questioning, doubting. Yeah, self-harm happened, too, whether by actually drawing blood or intentionally forcing myself to embrace hyperfemininity or by pushing myself to the point where I can't wear a color I love because it has all those negative associations with things I did to myself, things I said, trying to cut off unwieldy and inconvenient parts of my personality and decide I'm "moving on." I did the same thing about being autistic, about being ADD, and I look back on that now and realize that all I was doing was ensuring both my mental health and my physical health suffered. And my grades. Those dropped too. Performance in all respects. I ruined a lot of friendships that way. I guess some of that is a behavior learned from my parents. Forbid anything that's not productive or conductive to school that you're too "dependent" on. It's… really the worst fragment of their parenting (I think it's how they approach themselves, too) I could've possibly internalized. And something that disappeared basically overnight as soon as I was old enough to point out it wasn't actually helping, it was hurting. Now it's just there in my head, eating at me. They're not bad people. They're not bad parents. They treat us like human beings, instead of like enemies to trap in a maze of "because I said so" and arbitrary obstacles, like so many fakey-nice perfect suburban American families I've seen. They're learning, too, their home lives weren't perfect and they're not prepared to deal with a neurodivergent (not "normal") kid at ALL. They're always so confused about how "brilliant" I am and how I have trouble with "easy" stuff, about how I get overwhelmed with too much input. About how no, exposing me to that input doesn't help, it just increases the chances of a grown adult having to lock themselves in a dark room bawling into a pillow because it's /too much/. The truth is, I don't know. I know that what I need to alleviate dysphoria is basically impossible. That unlike a binary trans person I do not have the possibility to transition and eventually attain the body I identify with. This is why I can't go back to the Bible Belt, or attend a super-religious school I might've gotten a good scholarship from. I can't. If I had to go back to all that, to dressing up and doing makeup and "girl talk" and asserting over and over and over that I am like you, I am like you, I am like you, I would lose my sense of identity completely. What fragile sense I've even built up for myself. A person I can be now, somebody I almost like. Not quite, but almost. It's progress. So much progress. I'd go back to hating myself for not being like you, yes, of course I'm crushing on a boy, oh, yes, absolutely, please help me look more feminine more often, I'm just a clueless tomboy who doesn't know what she's missing :) :) :) If you're a girl who loves engaging in typically feminine activity, I support you and your interests, as I would if you were anybody else and your interests didn't hurt anybody. But it's not for me, and honestly, it's silly, but so many of my nightmares involve people turning on me and deciding they'll help me look more like I'm supposed to, be like I'm supposed to. "You have such a beautiful woman's body! Don't throw it all away!" you can have it you can have it you can HAVE it please take everything, take the horrible breasts, take the horrible curves and the horrible cinched waist and the awful "delicate features" right off my face. I don't want these. I can't be grateful for something that I look in the mirror and I feel can't belong to me, it shouldn't. It's wrong. That's not me. Please don't tell me "you're a pretty girl, you should appreciate it," don't tell me I'd like it more if I wore more skirts, I promise, I TRIED that. I did. I tried all the possible ways of loving myself and embracing a female identity in both gender-role-conforming ways and not. It doesn't work. It's like a software patch called "gender" was installed in almost everybody's brains except my own. All I'm left with is extraneous hardware that acts as malware without the driver patch. In a way, though, things are looking up. I've managed to figure out a thousand and one ways to avoid the entire (gendered) past tense in the language I speak at home. I've figured out a thousand more ways to avoid revealing, I've learned to see when I'm succeeding and when I've slipped up, when their eyes shine in triumph and they finally use binary pronouns without asking. Would it be so hard to ask? I'm not even sure what I'd say except "thank you." It's only happened once to my face without snark and it was the best thing I'd ever heard. I blew it. I wasn't expecting it. I shrugged and said "whichever you please" because I got so flustered, I didn't know how to respond. It was unexpected. It was wonderful. I should've said "neither, really." I could've said "I'd prefer not to say." If I hadn't been speaking Polish, I would have asked for “they.” Maybe. If I had the guts. "Whichever you please" was a step in the right direction though… right? This post doesn't have a point. Not really. Just laying some stuff out in text because they finally make sense that way. If you want to send hate, save it for other posts, okay? Have a shred of dignity and comment on posts tagged discourse, or posts in which I express an opinion about something that isn't this introspective.

Poszedłbym na te "Płynące wieżowce", ale reżyser mówi, że to nie jest film gejowski. To już sam nie wiem.

Zasnąłem wczoraj na balecie. Muszę chyba jeszcze raz przemyśleć kwestię swojej orientacji seksualnej.