I might be barely breathing, but I'm not dead

Damn my brain. It's not bad enough that I went insane last night and thus got to bed late. No. I had to dream about her, waking me far earlier than I would have otherwise.

And my entire body hurts. Fuck.

Tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain

Is that how you measure a man?

So, I brought up to the mother the fact I want to have a partial hysterectomy. Again. And, again, she noted how, due to the fact it's irreversible, most doctors won't do it until I'm 40.

And all I could think was 'unless I have a pre-existing condition. You know, like gender dysphoria'

Again, hormones and genital surgery, never happening. But...I want a gender NEUTRAL body. If I could have neutral lowers, I would, totally. But as it is, the only thing I can do anything about is the chest and the painters.

When I've said before I'm 'mostly' female...I don't think that's right. I think it's a pretty even 50/50 split. Both sides are just attracted to women more than they are towards men. And my female half, it's pretty neutral on the period. Mensturating doesn't make me a woman, any more than getting some girl pregnant makes someone a man. And the male half is obviously very squicked by the period.

So...yeah. It'll just be another step towards being comfortable in my skin. So...as much as it will fucking hurt to do so, I'll probably cop to gender dysphoria once I start real therapy. Because, God/dess willing, I'll have a therapist who understand that there's more than the binary and I won't be forced in to a square hole when I'm a circlular peg.

Break all the rules

To pass the time until my copy of BD arrives, I looked at quotes from the first book today. Sometimes...I feel like Edward. Just for all the things I've put Bri through. Hell, most people wouldn't be friends with me, much less want to be WITH me, after half of this...I mean, I wish I could be normal, you know? Or what society defines as normal...just for her. She can pass as 'normal', from the outside anyway. But as the years ago by, and I get the money to fix myself, I won't. And I'm never going to. And...it's terrifying. The idea that because of what I am, she could get hurt.

Could you believe that, despite everything I’ve put you through, I love you, too?

I infuriate myself. The way I can’t seem to keep from putting you in danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself.

I’m never angry with you — how could I be? Brave, trusting… warm as you are.

I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn’t expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me… happy.

Isn’t it supposed to be like this? The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?