The Source Of This Painful Pile Of Wasted Breath

And now we have me. I'll do my best to describe myself, but no guarantees this won't just confuse you worse. I am a short guy (~165 cm, or 5'5" approx.) with an odd build. I am not fat, but I am not really average either. kinda' right in the middle. Good old German heritage getting in there.

People seem to think I look like I'm 16, but I'm really 20, just ask my father, who's favourite insult is "You're a fucking adult, start acting like one".

I am stronger than I look. And that isn't just male ego boosting. But I have become your typical computer freak, and it bothers me. I keep trying to become physically active, but it's harder than it sounds.

My hair is strange. Normally it looks brown, but under the sunlight it looks red, and in the summer, it goes a dirty blond in places, whether I've been outside or not. My eyes also follow my hair. As in, sometimes they are green, other times they are brown, other times they are grey, and once in a while they turn blue though that is rare.

I am an FTM. I am a trans-gendered person. I explained this in one of my earlier entries, but pretty much, I am a guy in a woman's body. Many people have problems with this. I am eternally referred to as "she" and "her", I can't be too upset, I catch myself doing it on the off moment, but seeing as I hadn't come out to myself until about three years ago, and to others only around a year or two ago, it's a habit. You think coming out as being gay is hard? Try telling your family you're transgendered. My father knows, my mother doesn't. But still my father calls me by that which he's known since I was covered in placenta goop. I can't get mad at him for it, but I'm not sure how to go about reminding him of it either.

What else...? I am a diabetic. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when I was a whole 18 months old. So I shoot myself 4 times a day and check my blood just as often (or at least I'm supposed to. Sue me, I forget to check sometimes)

And to delve a little deeper into the bubbling pit known as my history. I spent approximately six months at various mental institutes after having been hauled into the children's hospital due to an attempted suicide by insulin overdose. They diagnosed me with depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Paranoia, which was later changed to "Hyper-vigilance", being a pathological liar (which I'm not. or...I don't think I am), and having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. By the time I left, they had changed their minds and made it official that I had none of these things except the PTSD, which means dick all. So now I have to come to terms with issues that don't exist to the medical community. But I have to admit that as horrible as hell was, I think I did actually benefit from it. But then, memories never do convey the whole sensation.

There ya' go. A little bit of me. Though this journal would, presumably show you quite a lot of the rest of me.

04.12.2001 - 15:16

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