tali_phoenix | A Rant.

Behind this cut... is a stream of conciousness rant about my life, and everything going on in it. Read or don't read, but if you read, a little comment might help.

I am Natalie, I am a call centre monkey born into a male body, thats not quite right...

July 1985, a scowling infant male was born. Summer 2008, that males life disintegrated in a haze of anti-depressants, rage, and emptiness... the only voice keeping him/me sane was my own, but one that was not mine. Now a year later... this.

Now the male is gone, leaving what i sense to be female. Worried, scared, confused. Inherited a life she would not choose, a girlfriend she barely knows. Few social skills as the previous incarnation never learned them. Lived a life of holding no opinions, voiced no thoughts. Secreted his life away in sci-fi, in fantasy, escaping a life he couldnt understand, text book smart but lacking understanding of the WHY's underneath it.

She thought herself a new individual, not a carbon copy with a changed chromosome and a few reworkings of skills. Cant program, but better understanding of English.

Curious, she has poked and prodded questioningly at her own existance. Resolving to change the body to what she thinks she should have. A female body, a beautiful body. sleek, toned and mostly hair-free.

Things feel wrong, urinating makes her uncomfortable, almost makes her want to cry, she cant explain it. She looks around and talks to people within plural groups, and transgender communities online and sees a way out... transition, and make the body the way she remembers her to be in "headspace", looking through what it all entails... makeup, dressing appropriately, vocal coaching... they scare her. To out herself in such a way to turn from shadow into this... creature of radiant beauty. To describe how she remembers herself would be to draw in words a celtic aphrodite. Awareness creeps in showing that bone structure and hormones and existance have shaped her shell differently. Male very hairy, dark bags below her eyes, thin hair and a receding hairline... looking far more jaded and cynical than the 24 years this body has been subjected to.

Awareness of the lack of emotions, of true though processes, as she concieves of them. She feels only that she talks to herself in her own head. Unable to express herself in a way that seems so easy to people around her.

On top of the amount of work involved, of everything she would have to learn in order to simply be herself, sounds so daunting. What could be worse? surgery is expensive or hard to get, or both. The time, the effort, the caution to go through everything it would take to get her body the way she wants it.

NO! I am not her, how could I be? What I say sounds crazy to myself, how could I be? I was born, I remember everything from teenage years to adulthood... yet I was not there... was I? Am I just an extension of my own insanity. Have I become so adept at social camoflage that I have no idea who I am? of what I am? I sit in my flat and contemplate the madness that I think I have went through. To the insane, the insane are normal, especially when they have been this way as long as they can remember... all I ask for all I want in my pathetic life is just a little fucking clarity, a little fucking understanding of what I am and who I am MEANT to be. I feel like I sit here wasting everyones time, or being driven to lie and hide who I am until the end. A troubled child with a troubled social life, who has become so good at hiding their issues that they dont know where issues end, fiction starts. The truth is merely a convenient excuse for lack of imagination... I ask myself do the people who care about what I've shown them, have they seen the real me, am I part fiction, or just an attempted escape from the madness a partially self imposed isolation has brought about. The body's parents conversing with me have noticed a difference since I checked myself in for counselling, they see it as me taking charge of my life not bouncing from one rejection to the next, but making informed choices... I worry if anyone who loves me reads this and feels dismay, betrayal... sadness. I do not intend to lie, I do not intend to decieve, I do not intend to do anything but for now I have no idea if I am or not. To transition and make me... me as I see it, I wonder do I have the courage to take that last step, that last hurdle and get my body PERMANENTLY altered by having my genitalia removed.... or will my madness be caught by a psychiatrist or psychologist before I even get that far. By rights for the things I've done to others should i be locked up, incarcerated for eternity for my good and the safety of those around me. It should have happened before, for what happened to our ex. I still on some level blame myself for what happened between us, and for lashing out at her in moments of despair and insanity when I could not control myself. I know she blames me and sometimes I wonder if she's right to.

Do I deserve to live... I don't know. I know I think I dont somedays, looking at a kitchen knife sometimes all I can think is "one slice... it can end in one slice. You stabbed yourself last time, do it properly this time" One incision and all my fears, all my worries will go... but why do I go like this, when I'm not in counselling... I was fine, but some days are bad days and even as I write I dont know if its fact, fiction, or both. A fantastic tale to make my life a little less empty, a little less boring... a little more, showbiz. I hate most soap operas because of stuff like this yet here I am a one man... or is that one girl show...

A Rant.

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