I got my makeup on for it, I look silly. That's good, I guess.
Yesterday I talked to Birria Girl, y'know. She was upset that I didn't tell her that I liked her back until just now. She thought I was still caught up on that one guy... I'm over him. She makes a lot of jokes about not liking bisexual guys, and I kinda laughed along bc I didn't want to ruin the friendship, even though I already told her I was trans. Even my non friendly coworkers know I'm trans. Everyone knows, I'm out of the closet. So what gives, man? What gives?
But she was saying she liked me, is the problem. I feel conflicted between knowing that I've gotta have some self respect in not dating someone who isn't willing to support that part of me, and knowing that I might be throwing away a good thing, counting her out on her ability to care and adjust.
I just didn't think I'd be involved in anything like this so soon after separating from my ex. I thought I'd have a least a year.
She wished I told her I liked her sooner, because she liked me from the day we met. I didn't want to tell her for a while, cause I didnt think we could make it work. I didn't think she'd be okay with dating a trans bitch. And it ended up becoming the most heartbreaking thing. She was telling me that I can be forward and I can pursue her if that's what I want, because "you're a man," in her words.
And I tried telling her that I understand what she means... that she didn't mean anything bad by it... but that itself is the whole problem. I'm not a man. Not in character, not in mind. I'm a transgender woman. Dating me means dating a transgender woman. Is that something she's okay with?
I don't know. We were on the phone, but she got really sad and ashamed. I tried to apologize for putting her in that position, but she kept telling me to stop apologizing, that I didn't do anything wrong. She kept telling me that it's not my fault... that I'm not the problem. But she said she'd call me back eventually when she had time to think. I'm still waiting on that call, you know.
Life is just like that, isn't it? Ever since I took that chance a year and half ago, it's been stories, mystery, romance and drama. Life doesn't feel like real life anymore, it feels like a movie. I don't like that feeling.
I remember when things made sense. I would study for class, I pass, I graduated, I work some gigs, hang out with friends every other week or so. I do my job right for the cash, I get paid, things make sense.
The genocide starts, and I know exactly what to do. I protest, I organize, I communicate, I donate. My boots are on the ground trying to do the right thing. Things are good, things are bad, but they make sense, yknow?
Everything stopped making sense after I took a chance on my ex, all those tears ago. This job is the only thing keeping me on the ground, but this heartbreak, with this coworker... we're stuck back in the collage of the stars. Norse myth maintains that the clouds are pieces of Ymir, his brains scattered in the sky. I think about that every day.
My brains have been scattered ever since that slimeball got back in office.
I paid for my families groceries this week, for a four person household, it was $265. That wiped out my budget. These people, these kind people, couldn't possibly know that, so they continue to ask. I tell them that I don't have any more money, and they apologize and they feel bad, and it's... why does the world have to be like this? I don't have any relief anymore. Even when I'm relaxing, I'm still at work.
Can there be one thing that makes sense, Lord? One thing that goes the right way?
There was one day in the last two years where everything seemed to make sense, one day where everything worked out.
Those of you who know me irl, and have been reading this blog for the past year, may already know what day I'm talking about. When I visited them, those people...
I won't talk about it. I actually shouldn't. So I won't.
It's just childish whining, all of this. Too stupid to focus on the goal, this chick. I'm not gonna stop donating and organizing and fighting and talking and producing and dj-ing and flirting and being annoying. Nah. I can be mad about it, though. I can do both.
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