Long Nights Are Long

Sometimes I can feel the levees breaking.

Rarely in my life do I ever get to a point when I don't let myself feel my emotions.  It's not always a good thing, but I thoroughly believe that the best course to take with my own emotions is to let them happen.  If I'm angry, I let myself feel that anger, even if I have to temporarily stopper it to let it out later.  If I'm upset, I go someplace private and I cry.  If I'm happy, you'd better believe everyone around me knows it.  A lot of times, I do subject the people around me to my bad moods, and I do feel bad about that, but I feel like if I try to bottle it up and smile when I just want to scream, I'll go utterly insane.  At heart, I'm a hurricane.  Something has to give.

This is the first time I can remember that I have found myself sitting here knowing a bad mood is coming on, and I can hear the floodgates creaking, ready to burst, and I'm here screaming "no!" in the back of my  mind because I don't want it to happen.  I don't even know why.

And that's twofold confusion--I don't know why I feel this black mood pressing down on me, nor do I know why I feel like I can't just let it happen.

I kind of think the mood itself is just because I'm having a fantabulously dysphoric day.  Today and yesterday have been shit for that--I know I'm in for it when I wake up in the morning and have my hand resting on my breastbone and am wondering what all this soft tissue is, and then I remember that I do still have breasts, and I can't bring myself to get out of bed because as long as I'm lying flat on my back, gravity is doing its part to make me look less like a girl.  I dream so often that I'm free of my feminine characteristics that I often wake disappointed, even for just a few minutes.

The thing is, I'm still not sure if I would change if I had the money to go through surgery.  I don't want any manner of genital surgery, I know that much, because honestly, my ideal body is fine in that regard.  But the secondary characteristics...I think sometimes that I want the top surgery, and I want to go on T, and then I would be okay.  But then I wake up with no dysphoria at all and things are fine for a week or better and I'm okay with my body because I'm just me inside, no gender/body dissonance, even if I still don't fit my ideal.

I've been questioning myself a lot lately, about whether or not I know what I am.  Terms shouldn't matter, but I feel like I need to have a word to describe myself, or a string of words at least.  I like the term trans-masculine.  I don't think I'm a transguy, not fully, but I do feel like the word 'girl' does not fit me.  Nor do I feel I'm purely androgynous or agendered.  It's confusing.  And a little painful.  I hate not knowing things.

And I kind of realise at this point that the reason I'm staving off this mood is because I'm alone right now, because my friends have gone to bed--which I should do too and therefore fault no one for--and I have no one to take this mood out on.  That makes me a horrible person.  I think I'm just now realising that my moods suffer from the "if a tree falls and no one hears it" syndrome; if I'm in a bad mood and it happens when I'm alone, I feel I have no right to complain or talk about it or anything like that.  Which is bullshit, I recognise, but I never said my brain made sense to anyone but me.  This could explain why I always feel like taking out my bad moods by writing.

It's almost always a safe bet that if I'm in a particularly black mood, my characters are going to suffer royally.  So I'm a little bit sadistic.  I can't help it.  It balances out all that masochism.

I think at some point, I need to write an entry solely about what I see when I think of me, about the image I would like to present to the world.  I'm sure someone would find it amusing.  God knows I do in my more lucid moments.

I'm still not feeling any better.  This is why I try not to hold my emotions at bay.  I always feel worse in the end.

I think it's time for ice cream.