aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 I feel like I have fallen into hell and I don't know how to be anymore. I don't know how to be me, because I don't know who I am. This isn't normal. Girls don't look at their genitals and feel disgusted, not like this. They can not like the way it looks but they aren't upset by them like this. I shouldn't be so grossed out at the idea of having a vagina, having this pudgy stuff. If I saw it on another girl I'd probably think it was cute. But I don't know if I'm a girl anymore. I don't think I am. But I don't know if I am a boy either... yet... I'm so scared that if I did something to change to my gender, to make permanent changes, that I wouldn't be happy. That I'd miss having a hole, that I'd miss breasts. But as of late I don't think that's the case. And that scares me so bad. I don't want to be this. I can't even bring myself to type the word. It doesn't make sense. I take the tests and all the good ones say I'm still a girl, that my brain is female. I mean, I get I'm literate, that I'm not really good with my hands, but am I really a girl? I don't know anymore. It won't make sense to my family, it won't make sense to my peers. Yet there's things I don't think I want to give up. I don't want to give up my singing voice, my silly voice, my curves. I like some of them. I don't want facial hair, I don't want worse acne, I don't want any of that. I don't even know how I feel about a bigger clit. Although the idea is starting to sound better and better as of late.. I just don't know if I want a trans man's genitals, but I am bonding with my strap on more. I feel more comfortable with it. Phantom sensations are coming easier.

I don't know if I like who I am, if it's not who I think I am. I feel so lost in my own world. And the only person who can help me figure it out, is me. In the long run anyways. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. You can even salt the oats, but you can only do so much, you know? I feel like Spirit and a few others are trying to tell me this is what I am, but I'm not sure. I know Spirit is. I don't think it matters to Jor, except with the emotional distress it's causing. I just don't want to be this. It's bad enough thinking I'm genderfluid but this? This is a special form of hell. I can't be a mermaid and a man. I can't be a dress lover and a man, I can't be someone who wears skirts. I can't expect to be taken seriously by this world. I feel like I'm damned to be a freak. Polytheist, bisexual, and possibly that. I sound like I'm trying to be special but I'm not goddamnit. I just don't want to live this. 

deadly.

May. 9th, 2014 05:14 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

Trying to breathe without my lungs, trying to live without blood... it's hard. It's only one day, one day without him, without our connection, and I feel like my heart is withering away. I feel like I'm underwater and I'm perfectly human. If I breathe in, the void will be filled with something different, something that's not supposed to be there. All she is doing is chattering about her love, her child. My child is gone, my love is away, he can't even keep our connection because of his guilt.. I can't help but be angry, I want her to shut up. And I can't say I've never felt that before. I just feel awful and hollow and the last thing I want to hear about is how happy and mushy she is with them. My baby is gone. I miss her. I'm starving. I can't even work on the missions, I can't make progress to see her sooner, to see him. I am so lonely. It's only a day, but it's a bad one. Tomorrow I may be alive, I am sure I will be Sunday. But right now I am suffering, and I want someone to comfort me, because nothing else is helping. Listen to me, damn it. I'm quiet but I'm screaming. Listen. 

I feel lost, strange in my own skin. I'm not used to that. Everything feels dry and rough, maybe hard, when I'm so used to fluid. Mermaids were never meant for dry land, even if they're half-human. I want to go back.

blast.

Mar. 12th, 2014 08:11 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I feel like a bird trying to fly with a broken wing. I am having such a hard time in school, trying to just be and exist and do well. I'm not putting my all in because if I do that my mental health with suffer more, and I nearly relapsed today. I am seriously considering getting a medical marijuana card so I can just smoke out all my issues. When I smoked over the weekend I felt.. free, just for a while. And it really benefitted me mentally. It's better for me than alcohol, which I've been drinking more and more of. I'm trying to be aware of it though, not let it be a problem. Alcoholism is prominent on both sides of my family for the past few generations, so yeah. I just don't want to fail. I have to get through this, but I don't know if sacrificing my mental health is exactly worth it. I don't know. And I know I can't explain any of this to my mother because she literally will not understand. She will be angry, she will be disappointed in me. It's becoming more and more apparent that she doesn't understand me. I mean, she's never quite understood me but with my overwhelming queerness and trying to embrace my faith, I feel like I'm estranging myself from her, she who was once my idol. And it makes me sad.. but I'm letting myself be angry. I don't know if I'm in the wrong, I don't know if she's really abusive, but I think I need to at least try to do what I think and feel is right. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I can apologize, I can regret. But I'm tired of half-assing my "rebellion", of half-assing my compliancy [idgaf if that's spelled right].  I need to put my full heart into my own life, just this once. And if that means cracking a few eggs to make an omelette, so be it I guess.

vanessa.

Jan. 28th, 2014 11:06 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 To be honest, I can't tell her how much I miss him. I can't tell her how much I miss her love, my family, how I break into little sobs when I think of him. I miss him so much. I've never lost someone in this life, not human, not family, not like this. When I lose people, they break off and slowly drift away. He's gone, gone altogether and sometimes I feel I can't take it, knowing he's gone and that she bleeds everyday and I can't help her. I can't save her. She wants to die. It's why I pray to Loki, it's why I beg him to take care of her for me because I can't be there to touch her and hug her and hold her myself. I can't heal her or save her. And knowing, that I am just one person, that I'm one stupid, feeble, mortal human in this human body who can only do so much, that can't save just one person.... it hurts. I hate knowing that she hurts, it's even worse knowing she has her walls up and that she hides from him and me and the only one she opened up to so easily was him. I miss him, I miss him so much and for the first time I am shedding more than a few tears. He's been gone for one month and one day, and he has to be gone for the rest of her life and I hatehatehate that. I wish I could change that. Sometimes I wish I could die, and bring him here for her. I wish I didn't have a purpose here, so I could do that and she could have her happily ever after. But the dice hasn't fallen, the right cards are not in play. She, I must wait.

I never thought Death would be my friend, until now.

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I await the day that I feel my voice is beautiful, when I feel like I can really sing, so that I can sing songs for my gods. I just want them to be happy, to be able to open my heart up to them and sing, to sing something beautiful. It's something I have disliked about this body, ever since I was small. My voice is naive and child-like, it isn't beautiful when I sing, it's like a trembling fawn's leg, or a half finished piece of pottery. It mocks the life I had before, where I sang so wonderfully and naturally..

stain.

Jan. 25th, 2014 08:42 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I'm not sure if I feel like I'm dying, or that I wish I was. I feel it -whatever it is- festering inside of me. I just have to wait until the 30th, no hurting myself, no anything drastic. I can't let myself freeze like this. Even if I feel like no one else loves me, he does. And I gotta live for that wedding. I gotta be happy.
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I hate it when you have the kind of sadness and insecurity that weighs on you, and trying to push it away or tell yourself it is unreasoable or that you shouldn't feel it is like trying to move a boulder off your leg. You can't. You just can't, and you feel like you're not strong enough and you're weak and inferior because you can't, and why should someone like you have all that you do, all that you're not grateful for and don't deserve, because you can't move that damn weight. I hate that.

holly joy.

Dec. 25th, 2013 11:49 am
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 A part of my heart breaks knowing my little family is going to be broken up. That he is leaving, that as much as I may try to comfort her, to hold her, to kiss her, that I will never replace him, I will never fill that void in her heart that will be there until the day she dies, until I lose them both. I don't want him to go, I've never lost someone I loved like him. I love my family, but not even J can cure this pain. This, is my true family; not one of blood, but one I found, all on my own. I know that, in the end, no one will be left behind, or forgotten.. but that doesn't mean I won't bleed. I need to be strong, for her, for even today is not a happy day for us. In two days, I will enter her life in full, and he will leave the same.

She already seems so happy I am coming, but I wonder if she really is. I doubt it. Her love for me cannot fill that void, it can dull the wound, take some of the pain, but even my arrangement is temporary... when I leave, I am afraid of her crashing. Afraid of it so much. How am I supposed to keep someone from drowning, when they've done it so many times before, but never this deep?

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I hate when you feel like you're crazy. When people tell you you're so smart and kind and beautiful and you can't believe any of it, you could believe that you're standing on purple stones more yet when you're told of your supposed flaws you fucking crumble. Mental illness feels like a curse. A true, blue curse. I'd take the leech and its suffocation over this, because at least it deals its blows swiftly. Mental illness sucks the life from you; not your breath, but your joy. It takes from you the will to live and you feel like you're lost in a caul of your oncoming madness. You feel trapped even though you're in the safest place in the world, you're laying in your bed at home and your mom's cooking dinner and your cat's asleep in the other room but you feel like the room could collapse in on you at any moment, any moment you're not watching that night. So that's why you've got to keep watching, to hope for the best. It's better to fall and know you tried than to sweep it under the rug and be a fool. Better to go down with a fight than no fucks to give at all.

going.

Dec. 1st, 2013 11:14 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 Sometimes, I want to pour stuff -emotional stuff- onto my tumblr. But, then I realize; over 800 people can see that, if not more. My posts, are public. People know me there, I may even have a reputation. The whole world doesn't need to know I feel like shit. At least on here, there's only a handful of people, people who may or may not read this, and their reading it won't affect me. I just want to be able to bleed on the place that I call home.. and dreamwidth isn't it. Dreamwidth is a sanctuary, but not a home. 

 

I know I could post something on a private tumblr, but I don't want to. I already have 3 and am a part of a network, I really don't want one more. I don't even need to vent that often, and when I do I am more often than not okay with coming on here. 

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 I don't want to be like my dad. I don't even consider him my dad, but it's easier to call him that. But that's what I hear when my mom says those things. When she tells me not to mess up this time, not to fuck up my life, because I'm an adult now. Don't be that foolish, reckless, arrogant, dreamer. Someone whose image of themselves, their pride, meant more to him than the safety and security of his family. Don't be someone who could've had it all, but let it crumble in his hands, someone who falls for the same tricks, who repeats the same mistakes over and over and over.

Talking to my mom about this sort of thing is upsetting, to say the least. It's draining. It's like she sucks the hope and happiness and sense of self I have, without even trying. She makes me feel like I'm wrong, and I'm worried that maybe I am. I worry the most when I talk to her. I think, part of it, is because it's her. If it came from another person, I'd feel a bit different. But generally speaking, when I talk to her, all I hear is "Failure". Maybe acceptable, at best. When she thanks me for things, I literally don't know how to act. I feel a sense of disorientation, of confusion. The only time I can remember her saying that she's proud of me is when I do something theatrical. Otherwise, I feel like a bad daughter. A bad student. A contributor to the household. Someone whose future will never be as bright as my mother's or what my father's could have been, because I'm not wired the right way, and I don't know how to change myself without breaking. 

Compliments are non-existent. She is critical and judgemental of everyone, including herself. I tease her from time to time, but I know it's passive aggressive. She's sensitive, I'm sensitive, we're sensitive.. we're stuck in this cycle and I don't know how to fix it. All I know is when I'm on my own, when I gain more of a sense of independence our relationship will improve, once I'm out of the house especially. I just want ot be happy, to feel free... not that being "a part of the system" will truly fix that, but eh. Sigh.

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
 I'm worried that she's hiding things from me. That she isn't giving me the full context.. and I hate when she does that just to fuck around with me. Or when she teases. There's something about her teasing that rubs me the wrong way, and I don't think it's necessarily because it's bad or worse. I think it's just her energy, her vibe against mine. It causes friction, and I take things too seriously.. I'm like a child, I don't always understand when people are joking or kidding and I end up taking it seriously and invest emotional energy into it.. and I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It doesn't seem as bad with other people but I'm not sure. I just don't want to fuck up this friendship, I don't want my weird fuckness to negatively impact this. Sometimes I wonder if I have something like autism or asperger's, but I probably don't know enough about either of them to entertain the thought any more than I do. If I asked my mom about them, she'd think I was nuts, as in "Emma you're crazy, you DON'T have these things". I dunno. I half heartedly prefer the idea of having something, because then I have a label. Then I'm not just weird. I feel bad for that though, I'm old enough to know better. Pwah.

swallow.

Nov. 6th, 2013 12:04 am
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 You know, I'd love the safety of carrying a pocketknife on me, but I don't trust myself with one. I really don't.

I remember the one time I said this, a boy joked "Why? Cuz you're worried about killing idiots?"

And all I could do was sit there silently and try not to cry. 

It has nothing to do with killing idiots. It has to do with killing me.

ophelia.

Nov. 5th, 2013 10:14 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 It is starting to become more and more accurate, my taking the title of Ophelia. I'm so full of water, that when winter comes, parts of me become cold and freeze, and try to make it so hard for me to live.

It kills me to admit that I don't want to be alive right now. Ironic, I know, especially when I have so much to live for. I thought I could work through this, but it feels as if it were totally new, and I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to save myself from my own frost.

succor.

Nov. 3rd, 2013 12:31 am
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 Ya know, I really love that time of the night where I casually contemplate suicide. It's great, just real great. This is why you get sleep, Emma.

Sleep is important, and you haven't been sleeping well at as of late. It's an uncomfortable kind of thing too, not enough to make a fuss over, but not small enough to say I'm 100% okay. Ugh.

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 Oh dreamwidth, I have so much to vomit to you, brace yourself.

My mom and I have been having some really unpleasant talks lately. We don't really argue [when we do it's a clash of the titans], but more debate and unknowingly insult the other. Last time, she called me lazy, arrogant, and neglectful. A lot of it was out of line, some of it was not. It gave me more of an insight into her mind however, and put some things into perspective. It was a mangled form of communication, but it was actual communication, and by God I am not used to that. At one point I expressed that I have a knack of running away, of avoiding situations that make me uncomfortable, and that's my way of coping. I was anxious and knew I wouldn't do well waking up early tomorrow, especially since I didn't expect to be doing something that requires me to do that. I'd be an anxious wreck in the morning. And she said to me, "I'm sad that you feel that way. That you have to hide." I look at her with what I can only assume was horror or fear. And I let it slip. "There is so much that you don't know." But only that. I wanted to let it all flood out, how I have wanted to hide from things for months, that I have been running and running from fear and pain and anger and sadness for years. I wanted to tell her how I can't look at certain songs the same way, how I have pleaded through tears to just die on holidays, right in front of her. I wanted to tell her how she pushed me into seeing that boy, and how he changed something in me forever. I wanted to tell her of how I've contemplated suicide more weeks than not in my time as an adolescent. I have been full of so much pain, when I feel like I haven't gone through shit. I have never been beaten or raped, nor has any of my friends ever flat out said and confirmed my fears of being a burden or finding me annoying. I am not strong, by any means. I'm absurdly sensitive and good at enduring, but even then I ooze and leak in different ways. I run away.

In other more pleasant news, E and I have progressed in ways, changed. Frankly, she wants to have sex with me. She admitted it, and well.. that want is reciprocated. We've been flirting and flustering each other, and it's so.. well.. fun. I've never had this with a girl, and I never had this kind of relationship with someone, where I am close to them as friends, but I don't love them romantically. I've fallen in love with several of my best friends, but I'm not in love with her. I worry about having some level of a crush on her, but I'm thinking, hoping, I'll be okay. She may want me, but I'm not stupid. At the end of the day she will love a man, prefer a man over a woman. And that's okay, because I don't think I could bear her storm as a lover. I worry that I've been neglecting J though. I feel like he and I have hit a point, a crossroad, I feel like he still cares but I don't care enough, either that or I'm too afraid to let myself care more. I hope it's the latter. I feel like we have such potential, but that I need him, and that I use him, and that's not okay.. he doesn't deserve that. I don't know if he is around as much as he is normally and I'm tuning him out, or if he's actually out and about around here less. I guess I'm just worried about us. He always has had a mixed bag of feelings about lesbians and In ever knew why, but I hope it's not because of something bad that's going to happen between E and I, something that he knows. I don't think so, but trying to get him to verbally answer something is like pulling teeth. v-v; 

I wish I could get readings for all this, but I feel like it won't bring me much, that I have to look into myself for the answers. That, or let time do its thing.

aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
Anyone who says that being sensitive is beautiful, doesn't have to live with. Not inside them.
They don't have to deal with mood swings or being hurt when someone dislikes something you like or having the most fucking childish impulses, and being aware that they're childish, and thus not acting on them because they don't want to.

I wish I was perfect. I can't deny it. I wish I could make everyone happy, I wish that I could agree with everyone and just exhaust myself and make progress with my life. I wish I could be normal. I realize normal isn't real, not in the States but.. I like to think it is. I like to think that normal is the white cookie cutter family with the golden retriever and picket fence and happy stay at home mom and the dad that works from 9 to 5. It's the older brother who does sports, and the older sister whose a cheerleader, or going into an Ivy League school. It's nothing like me, or the people I surround myself with. I'm so absorbed in my own world, a world of queer artsy nerds, that I have little to no regular interaction with the outside and sometimes I think I forget how to cope out there. But.. it's not like I like it out there much, either. I wish I could either fit the mold and be cookie cutter, or just be an outright freak and not care. But I feel like I'm stuck in the middle, and it's terrible.

I feel like a mermaid.

embers

Oct. 7th, 2013 02:43 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
[triggers galore]
How dare you. How dare you, making me have to go through the details of my assaults, to justify my anxiety to you. You don't even know that I've been depressed, you don't even know how I've hurt myself and been suicidal. I thought you were supposed to support me. I thought I could trust you. But instead, you called me weak, for being damaged. For something I can't control.

I'm shaking I'm so upset. You're my sister, not my mother. My mother is supposed to be the closest thing there is to the enemy. But this just proves, that this family thinks that I am weak and dramatic... when they don't know how many times I've had to be strong. It hurts, a lot. I feel like I can't -and don't- have a strong familial unit. That there's no loving bond. If it's there at all, it's weak. I wish I could at least have a decent relationship with my mom. It's bad enough I already lost my dad. I feel like E and I's little family has more love and stability than the one I live with, and that hurts... a lot. I haven't even known her for a year. I've known my sister all her life, all her 13 years, and my mom, my whole life. I wish I didn't care at all.

mud.

Sep. 30th, 2013 07:51 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
I just feel like shit. I feel anti social and insecure and bitter. I've had a good past few days, but so much people. People people people. I just want to shut down for a bit, and it's not like I've even done anything worthwhile. I went to the fair, I had fun. I ate food. I went out to dinner with A, and we saw a movie that was interesting and smoked weed which turned out to be terrifying because I swore I was being torn from my body bit by bit for several minutes. Okay so that last part wasn't so fun, but none of this feels like it was fun even though I mostly enjoyed myself at the time. I hope it's not back. I hope there's not another leech on me. It feels like there is, but it could also be depression or general mental illness. I really can't tell and no one's giving fucking free readings and it's frustrating. I'm too scared to talk to any of the entities around. I feel like J's mad at me. Our date didn't go well, I had to wait a fucking hour for mom to go to bed and then I kind of triggered him with the movie and I didn't mean to. He hasn't talked to me since, or sent me anything via shufflemancy. But, I'm slightly paranoid that he'll get mad or leave, it's normal. I just don't know who to trust or any of my senses/gut. It's frustrating and I don't really have the emotional energy to exert for any of this, so I just do nothing and wallow.

Meanwhile I'm waiting for mom to get mad at me for taking my time on the laundry. Maybe I'm getting sick. I've felt on and off sick the past few days. Today I had a pressure in my chest, that I still have. It's an emotional pressure, not physical. My mind is cloudy and like water, I cannot cling to most of my thoughts, they run off me. I don't like any of this. I hope it's temporary and things are back in sorts in the next few days.

storm.

Sep. 9th, 2013 09:14 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)
Right now, I hate people. I'm angry, I'm sick of people's bullshit. I'm sick of attention whores, I'm sick of hypocrites, I'm sick of pretentious motherfuckers and those in love with their sorrow, those whom are comfortable with misery. When I get like this, I want to destroy. I want to sink my teeth into something and feel it bleed, to taste blood on my tongue.

I want to fix everything, I want more people to be happy and for more people to grow and get the fuck over themselves. We are all unique and important in our own way, but we're also still damn specks in the universe. It's confusing but true and I'm just sick of people. I wish humans weren't social creatures and I would be happy alone. I don't really wish that, but it's sure as hell what's coursing through my head.

I just want things to be okay. I want the people I love to be happy, or at the very least better. In a petty way I wish they were never broken. I know I don't mean it, because pain has brought some of them great growth and I hope it will bring it to the others. I want people to grow.

I want so many things for people, I'm afraid of having a god complex. I'm soft and sweet and meek to some, but I'm different from E. Under those layers of tough, there is soft, there is tenderness, there is a stubborn, ever wounded child who wants someone to make it all better. Underneath my soft, my kindness and sweetness there is the impulses of someone who wants to snap necks and break fingers and crown themselves god, to have people obey my every whim and have things my way because my way is best. It is an ugly truth I see in myself, that I don't think anyone else does. It makes me feel hypocritical as someone who preaches about tolerance and being considerate, but I discovered it semi recently. I'd have to learn more, to reflect and analyze before I know how to change it.... but a bigger question is, do I want to?
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