11/30/25 - Backslide

I didn't get jack shit done today. My chin has broken out and looks a mess. I stopped doing my skin routine for a few days and my skin paid for it🫲😮‍💨🫱 serves me fuckin' right.

I played video games for over 5 hours during this break. We are returning to homeostasis.Yes, this is what we do, is it not? We are an organism animated by pursuits of ecstasy and leisure. I let the fantasy of the virtual realm overtake my senses for the sake of keeping me away from more carnal pursuits. I don't want to visit the strip club, I want to be a stripper. I wish I was sexy, you know. Just for one day.

My first ever therapy appointment was quite alright. I understand I will need to divulge a bit more in the upcoming weeks... I don't mind it. I don't mind it at all. You all know how much I love to talk. And gossip, it's all to essential to my character.

Maybe I like the idea of being speculated upon. I'm into it. Let me be your hot topic, y'know?

Somebody with as frumpy a countenance as mine should not feel comfortable saying all this. But I don't give a fuck. How could I? I have a job. Seriously.

I think it's a good thing that I gained some weight back from Thanksgiving. It's a good thing. But my body looks further from that satanic ideal. I was model thin last month, y'know. Scary. Harder for me to cut it as a doll.

I keep wanting to cloak my illness as vanity. But I am tired of being poor and I want to feel wanted. The same reasons I imagine a good many dolls turn to sex work. I'm really trying everything I can to avoid doing that sort of stuff.

Yeah, I know I'm not hot. That's not important. I know that my identity makes me an object. When I put on my eyeliner and mascara and my lipstick, I do very much become a stereotype. A rough faced masculine looking tranny wearing their sloppy looking make-up. Like a boulder in a dress and a wig.

Maybe I should try wigs. I do actually want to try wigs. I do. But I can't right now. Not in this house.

I move out this week. And then I'll be free. I'll finally be free.

I keep thinking about my class status these days. My bargaining unit reminded me to vote on a contract two weeks ago. I read the pamphlet my reps gave me... horrible. And that contract passed.

Look at me. I'm just a working stiff. I am all the family and mentors in my childhood. I have become the elders I love. I should feel better about it, yknow. It is good to be one of the billions. To be part of the collective human effort. The true soul of history, the labor of the many. The little people.

I guess I feel like I could do something good for the little people. There is an arrogance in my heart, an ambitious narcissism. I do not like to think about this. But I have not learned to turn away from my feeling...

My feeling that I am meant for greater things than this. That I have a real shot at being heard. That I can touch more hearts than ever before. That maybe I could be someone who can shake the table a little bit. I can do something big to help the little guy. 

I want to connect with the world, not just America. I want the global south to be intertwined with my work, with my sense of community. I want the full gradient of the world. I will help people across the planet, not as a colonizer or an imperial. How can I help as a resource, as a friend.

My most desired dream, that which I pray God gives to me one of these days, is that somehow I or somebody else can give enough funds to Manal and Remas and Ibrahim that their whole family can escape the genocide, alive. That they can live full, safe, happy lives. That things will be different, and I can meet them in person some day. I so desperately want the Lord to give these people the lives they truly deserve, prosperous and peaceful lives. There will be no shaming, there will be no monkey's paw. God will make the right thing, the beautiful and joyous thing, happen.

Amen.