Breaking My Back To Carry Excess Luggage

I don’t write much about my love for my ex.  Tonight I will.  I’ve been talking to her a lot in the last few days.  She’s single again.  My heart is still hers.  For now… it is still only hers.  I will never find what she gave to me.  I don’t care if I’m hurt again.  Love hurts.  That’s how it works.  She is beautiful. She is amazing.  She is my link in life.  I don’t understand why, but I would walk the rest of the world that I have not yet stepped foot upon for her.  I was engaged to her once.  That was my for life commitment.  It didn’t happen.  I was broken hearted.  I’m soooo stupid.   SO FUCKING STUPID!  Why do I do this to myself? It’s been 3 years that I’ve been away.  She’s like nothing else in the world to me.

Denied to protect me…. I need to be loved.  I’m fragile and I need it.  I’m just a girl without hope.  A lost soul with an eternity to regret what I could not save.  I’m a mistake made from birth.  I always seek the highest peak.  I will never be tall enough or strong enough or fast enough or smart enough to catch it.  I will never understand what it is that I fail at.  A broken heart I keep.  I cherish the love I’ve received and remember each scar every time I find myself in need to breathe deeply.  I’m a terrible mess with a terrible affection for a love I can’t let go of as she walks further and further away.

Head high because my heart is so low….

Joslyn

Lost Even With Signs At Every Corner

So… after a long not so sober night with what I still consider as my friends, I found myself face to face being questioned about what I am doing with myself.  I shouldn’t have to sit there and explain myself to the world.  I don’t want to explain myself to anyone else.  Some may think I’m crazy, but have they really even considered the amount of “crazy” that’s gone on in my head before I came out? They don’t even consider what I may be going through when confronted in this nature.   It hurts.  It’s deterring to my soul.  Thanks to these questions and obliteration of my esteem through a bombardment of illogical questions.  Personal questions.

There are few people I hold in this world as very close friends.  I find myself further and further distancing myself from the world.  Granted my intentions are not there, the fact that my thoughts of suicide are becoming more and more prevalent is beginning to worry me.  I’ve tried so hard to keep my mentality up to at least be able to continue on until the sun rises again, but people want to badger me with questions and thoughts like I had never considered them before.  Yes! I do know this is permanent.  Yes! This really is how I feel.  I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide, “Hey, I should alienate myself from my family, my work, society, etc.  This will be great!”  NO! I remember questioning this as little as 6 years old.  I remember dressing like others just because I didn’t have a preference that wouldn’t get me called a fag.

What am I supposed to tell people?  Why must I even be questioned like this?  I’m told it’s because they love me and will support me through whatever decision I decide to make, but they claim I don’t know who I am.  So, now I find myself in a complete loss at my own view at the world.  I now feel like I have no idea what I am doing.  All I can think is that I’ve ruined enough already.  Who or what else really matters now.  There’s nobody coming to my house to make sure I’m OK.  I could disappear for days without anyone even thinking “Hey, where’s Joslyn?”  Why? A. because the question is “Where is Josh?”  B. I’m little more than an acquaintance to nearly 95% of the people I know.

When this girl told me that my life matters to no one… SHE WAS RIGHT! If I can’t find it in myself to keep my head up then I may as well sink to the bottom.  I’m struggling more than anyone even knows, and I don’t have anyone to tell.

CONSIDER WHAT YOU SAY TO PEOPLE!  CONSIDER WHO THEY HAVE! YOU CAN’T CRUSH DREAMS AND EXPECT PEOPLE TO MOVE ON WITH NOTHING ELSE THERE! WE ARE HUMAN! WE NEED HOPE! WE NEED GOALS! WE NEED A REASON!

Joslyn

The Pains of Growing

I feel as if so little is happening with my life right now when I compare it to what is going on with my body.  I’ve made a lot of changes in my life in the last 6 months.  My wardrobe has changed.  My preference for gender pronoun has changed.  My income has even changed.  I have still not found a doctor to work with me, and, thus,  I have resorted to using birth control pills to get a mild difference.  It’s been almost 8 weeks now and I’ve seen my hair get thinner and more blonde on my torso and arms.  Mammary glands have started to grow and swell.  This hurts by the way.

I came home from work on Friday and took off my shirt just to look down and think to myself, “Self, your breasts are beginning to show.”  I was happy and excited, yet, I was also wondering what I am going to do about working in the French Quarter.  I still debate using a binder to hide it because I don’t want people to be freaked out by it and decide they are too disgusted to tip me.  This could affect my income greatly.  This is something I greatly want, but I find myself still trying to hide it.   I relish my days off of work because what people think about me doesn’t affect anything I’m doing.

As far as work goes, I’ve been having some decent days.  I’m not making a million dollars or anything, but I can make a typical 10/hr jobs wage in just 2 days tops.  People continue to tell me how much they love what I do.  I have people tell me every weekend that they were told I was the best act in the city.  This really makes me smile.  I only wish they could understand that I am not a man.  I am a woman in this body.  I don’t know yet how to change that.

As I write this I am being messaged on Facebook by an amazing friend of mine trying to entice me to go out to a bar with her.  She says “You will come out and sit on my lap!”  I obediantly say yes ma’am.  So now I will spend the next 2 hours picking out a cute skirt to wear and a top to put on.  Makeup these days is super simple.

So… Time to get sexy-fied and go mingle out in the Quarter.

Until next time,

Joslyn

Inevitable is the spiral

OK, so, I haven’t posted in about two weeks at this point.  I had a great weekend at work two weeks ago and had a terrible weekend the last week.  As far as my life goes, I’ve been all over the charts.  I can look in the mirror and love myself.  I can dress cute and feel cute.  I can get every aspect I want down to the point that I feel like I am as cute as a girl as I can be.  I can not be that girl, though.  Sometimes I don’t allow it.  When I do I can’t take my mind off the idea that my anatomy is completely incorrect.

I go to sleep each now feeling great, then the dreams hit.  I wake up and BAM! Reality hits again.  I’m still a boy.  I feel as if I’m lying to myself anymore these days.  Have I done everything I can to make me happy? Or have I made my life harder by coming out to the world and losing the family I had?

I have a huge support group of friends.  I have a great life. I have a great self-employed job.  I hate myself.  I am not the human I was meant to be.  I’ve lost out on many years of life that I spent trying to hide who I am.  Avoiding words like “fag”, “queer”, etc.  I can only ask myself if avoiding the names was worth it.  After puberty hit.. I was practically doomed.  I was lucky to have the face of my mother.  I have features of my dad and I intend to get those covered up eventually (i.e. my nose, my hairline).

I feel at this moment that I myself need vagina, but not in the sense that any boy or lesbian would want vagina.  I want my own.  I hate this penis.  I hate hate HATE the way it looks, feels, and just IS.  Yet, in the same idea I need it as well.  I want this to hurry up.  The quicker it is gonna the sooner IT is here.  I will never know how I should feel, but I’m trying my hardest to get as close as possible to the goal.

I can only keep telling myself I’m strong enough for this.

I AM STRONG!

Joslyn

I Never Had It Right, I Never Had It Wrong

I’ve faked my fate,
Filtered through the pain,
Found myself crying,
Huddled in myself.
My words were speaking,
But the mumbles were faint,
Gasping for breaths,
Between my crying out for you.
Atrocious the world,
Sets standards unfair,
For the fate of us all.
We all have secrets of our own.

Depth Beneath Me

A death of a persona,
My own.
I have lost my hope,
In being ever again in control.
I have faced the world,
With the truth that I still hold.
With each breath,
I lose a little more of my soul.
I fight for substance,
A test I take on my own.
I agreed to move,
But I have lost all that I’ve known.

Best Interests, Worst Timing

Empty like the abandoned voice of reason,
I slump and slouch and feel the cold rush over,
Like summer before it goes back to spring.
I spoke for you to understand,
As if you could have ever taken time to care.
I spoke for you to make amends,
Like that time you almost did.

One

Unto this world we find ourselves,

Unaware,

Unknown,

Ignorant of what we don’t know is there.

There are no answers,

Only solutions.

What we are will become what we were.

What we were and what once was,

May once again be real.

Future is only a time;

And presence may just be as well.

Existence is a reality.

I need no god to believe that.

I don’t live for a lord,

But for myself.

If there may be life after death,

Or even a creator,

“He”, whoever or whatever IT may be,

Did not intend for self worship.

That is arrogance.

What proof has He shown.

Nature is there and has it’s ways.

That is all I need:

A belief…that anything may happen,

When ever,

Where ever,

How ever.

That is reality.

Things happen,

And every good thing is never a miracle,

But luck.

Be happy for what you receive,

For life may be taken,

Be it you or a love,

When you think you have it all there.

For you are alive in a single amount of times.

That number is…

DIVINE.

Ineptly Placed Personas

Such beautiful souls,

With voices,

Visions,

And remarkably different goals.

A journey to be accepted,

But only as their own.

Ineptly placed personas,

Trying to fit their,

Unperfected bodies,

To break the social boundary,

And make the world their own.

To follow is denial,

Of such creative thinking,

Like opinions,

Wants,

And being an identifiable entity.

Perfect/Imperfect

Paste the claim of needed salvation,
Stuck to my skin like I don’t keep trying.
I’m not giving up ’cause that means dying.
I’m not giving up ’cause that means crying.
I’m not giving up ’cause your words are your own battle.
Your words are nothing near the truth.
False prophecies held in place by glue.

Defiant of all sense of reason,
You stretch out ‘your’ truth to get your reaction.
Creating failure by distraction.
I refuse to take to factions.
For the first time in my life, I thought for myself,
I struggled with expression,
But to you it was just ‘pathetic’.

I hold tight to the reigns.
My words are my dying expressions.. my untold progressions.
After all we are losing satisfaction.
We are losing practical family attraction.
I always knew you’d eventually tell me to get out the door.
I never knew I’d be the first one to move.
I never knew I’d lose so much to a word.