9/10/25 - Abraham

I love my family with my entire heart and soul. That will never, ever change. But I also love myself. Every now and again, I am reminded that my family is full of religious fundamentalists. 

Sometimes they're good at concealing, I'd say it's most of the time, but the way some of my most beloved visibly wince at the sight of seeing me wear makeup and nail polish never gets old. It hurts every time. 

The only difference from now and then is that is that now, I don't retract myself to stop doing whatever it is that set my family aside. I'm not apologizing, and I didn't do anything wrong. 

It's such a weird thing, something I've learned just has to be fundamental to my experience. It's never going to be easy, and I will always be in hostile territory... unless I lie, you know. There is that. There are levels to boymoding, not all of them are fully fabrications. But in my heart, I know that this problem does not dictate the totality of who they are, beautiful people all have flaws. I think part of their frustration might be that they assumed I only dove deeper into my transition because of my ex or my sister or something. They are now finding both people are fully unaffiliated with my transition. They hate to see it!

I made my decision to come out with a keen knowledge that my family would never see me the same again. It was known quantity in my mind that some of my family members would never respect me in nearly the same capacity as when I was just a very introverted, lonely young "man." I decided that I am more important than their politics. I am more important than dogma. Every individual soul is worth more than words on a page.

There's nothing in the Bible about being transgender. Jesus himself never said anything about gay people or anything like that. A lot of the questionable stuff from those Gospels are the work of ol' John the Baptist. The idea that this stuff is somehow uniquely impure is just a feeling, its just woo woo bias bullshit that they made up. The bitterness and confusion come first, the dogma acts as a supplementary support. Confirmation bias, except there isnt even any reliable information they're taking out of context, they just made it up. 

It just... "feels" wrong. Like, somebody born male, wearing lipstick, just triggers a disgusting reaction in their brain, because of how deep they're living in the pocket of the lay. They're so stapled into the picture of normalcy that even insignificant deviations like that are enough to make them afraid and angry. Nobody actually has to be getting hurt or anything, is what's crazy. It's simply the fact that you decided you are something they don't believe you should be allowed to become... that's really all it takes.

Conservative ideology is defined more by what somebody is against than by what somebody believes in. Look at Trump supporters, for instance. They'll say theyre against pedophiles one day, and wave a Trump flag the next. They'll say they don’t want their children to be abused, and then don't allow children rape victims to get abortions. It's not about what actually makes sense, or what they believe in. They do everything simply because they know they don't like people like you.

Fascism is like this, it's more about being opposed to some other class of people than it is about helping anyone. In fascism there must always be an "enemy" to eliminate or target. Somehow everyone who is not you is the problem, right?

But I think these ideologies aren't interesting to look at. We have to understand the true problem of the world. We have to go back to the lay, the moderates.

Moderates don't really know what they believe, or what they hate. They only know what they like.

You gotta understand, this isn't the same as what someone supports or believes in. You don't have to like something to know or feel that it is correct. The problem with moderates is that nothing is actually correct or incorrect. I explained this in an earlier blog post, its the treatlerite mindset. Comfort, sense, ease, luxury. These are the things that motivate the moderate. 

Moderates don't attend any protests or write any letters or take any serious political action, because that would mean they have to actually do something. And that's not fun, that's work. Moderates are the majority, they mostly all have jobs and bills. In their mind, the idea of wanting to engage in some kind of struggle or effort by CHOICE outside of the daily survival tasks is simply unthinkable. That extra mile is conserved solely for their personal inner world of their kids, spouse, or parents.

It never occurs to them that people with actual convictions, "principled" or not, also have families, and bills, and jobs, too. They don't understand how somebody can be intellectually multitudinous in a manner not inherent to being without focus, but instead defined by having a clear focus of action.

Conservatives do things because hate is a motivator. Others act in service of justice, empathy, etc. It's hard to start an international political movement motivated by a desire to do... nothing.

It's only the kitchen table they see. They're all very farsighted.

Within these dialectics I come to understand why my family is the way that it is. Not everybody can be so many things. Not everybody can be a parent AND an activist. Not everybody can be an artist AND a community servant. A lot of people are limited in their worldview to believe they can only ever be one of these things.

Every day I see and talk to families in Gaza who desperately long to return to the regular, "boring" life so many privileged eccentrics like myself swear they want no part of. People need to feel safe, to feel comfortable. What people deserve is to never have to question if they'll have food, water, shelter, freedom. Ideally, in a system designed to help all of us, and not some of us, many more of us could afford to be moderates.

Unfortunately, we don't live in a world where that attitude is conducive to positive change.

You don't have to understand what it means to be transgender. You don't have to pretend to get it. You can admit to yourself, that you have a sort of unsophisticated understanding of gender, of personal identity, of sociology. And to be honest without hate is commendable, no matter what anyone says.

You do have to respect those who are transgender, however. To allow your ideology to mold you into a tool of repression and control is reprehensible, make no mistake.

Eventually, you will have to choose. Not everything is purely binary, not everything is simply good or bad, obviously... but indecision, stagnation, those are not allies of progress. Those are not allies of community.

Eventually, you will have to choose. You are either with me, or against me.

This is the first part of today's post. I'll write more later on.

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Some difficult things with the family, my sister got sick from one of the kids at work. They're a schoolteacher, it's bound to happen. But please pray for them. My sister is my best friend, they're my closest family. They said it's not covid or strep, but they may be out of commission for a day or two.

Mahmoud was kind enough to reveal to me the system that many Palestinians in need use to find donors. This makes it feel less overwhelming when dozens of people flood my dms looking for a helping hand, you know. I can't blame them, so I won't.

Recently my phone number has been given up to others without my consent, however. So now people are reaching me directly, who have more information about my donation history and my personal information than I believe would be safe.

A lot of what I choose to do puts me at a certain level of risk, this much I know. Even if it is a very minor security problem. From here we can connect what I was talking about with being trans with being pro-Palestinian.

Eventually, you just have to let the risk be what it is, and do the right thing anyways. I reach out, I communicate, I donate. With this I learn so much about these individuals, and it is from this I have to sober my mindset. Palestinians are not superhuman, they're not "exotic." They're just regular people, like everyone else. There are Palestinians who are like titans, creative and capable in ways so few in our world can be. And there are Palestinians who are just Joe from Walmart. And both of these people have an equal value as human beings.

I am not more valuable or more "special" than some other guy just because I'm a transgender woman, or because I'm Black, or because I make music or whatever. That's not how it works. I think sometimes I use twitter and I see... the most bizarre takes, you know. Orientalism is very pervasive in left wing political spaces, you gotta understand. Y'know, my irl friends and insta mutuals, if that is a term I can use, seem more grounded and worldly, even if they're creatives 'n stuff. It's people who usually have some kind of occupation, some kind of trade or art they do. Meaning, they touch grass. Easy to talk to, y'know. I see them at protests, at restaurants, in the club, whatever whatever. It's more them Twitter folk, y'know. They scare me.

Some of my close irls are both, y'know. So they a lil crazy, but they're good people. They do good shit, like good shit, but they can be a lil different sometimes. That's not a bad thing at all, my goofy irls are some of my closest, most dear friends, it's just how it is.

It's when I'm on that death site and I see some of ya'll saying you brought ket to protest about, Mahmoud Khalil or sumn, I gotta look at you a little different. Like... you're not a serious person, bro. There's a time and place for that stuff, you can't always mix that kinda thing. I remember this girl was into me cause I was talking about Osamu Dazai and James Baldwin or whatever, but let me tell you something. The Manson family is still around to this day, and they exist in the form of chronically online Transgenders. 

You have got to be careful talking about Politics around some people. Some people will say they are about all the right things, y'know. Social Justice, Prison Abolition, Gender Equality, Third Worldism, the whole shebang. But on the inside, what they really believe... it's hateful, it's selfish. They treat the people in their real life like trash, y'know. I remember this girl cheated with her best friend's gf, and then she wanna try to flirt with me like I didn't just find out that shit. She was berating someone who was my girlfriend at the time, and would turn around a minute later to try to get with me. I won't get into the details like that, all my irls are bored to death of hearing about that story, and it's not only mine to tell anyways. All of that stuff, that relationship, that's the past.

It's weird shit like that, y'know? I can't do it with some of these people, man. If you want to flirt, that's fine, but have some object permanence about it. I can see that knife in your hand, y'know? I'm not gonna act like I don't see the blood on your fingers, tryna twirl your hair when you talk crazy to me.

You gotta have empathy in your heart, man. You can't just read the books, you can't just do the doctrine. Some of you guys quote Kapital like my grandparents quote the Bible. I want you to think about that for a minute. I'm not trying to be deep or anything, just something I've been thinking about.

I remember I posted on the gram about "call them anyways," I think that sort of mindset has become my mantra. There is just too much going on to throw yourself under the bus, right? There's a balance to it. My friend Gray has got a great outlook on keeping that balance, y'know. He's lowkey smarter than me, but let me not count myself out, lmao. I'll see you guys tommorow.

9/9/25 - It Makes Me Wonder

Every single person I come across in life is a window into another world. That which I do not know entices me, and it is that sort of curiosity that becomes caustic to my inner peace. But that never stops me... the company of strangers never ceases to be entertaining. The journey of learning what I can never understand doesn't make me sad anymore, you know. I'm learning to enjoy the impermanence of it all. If anything, it's creating a new sort of vice to deal with, a new sort of avoidance that I will now be diligent in preventing.

What I'm saving up for has changed from what it used to be, you know? I am still saving up for the lease, don't get me wrong, but now... I don't want to do a big trip. I'm looking into backpacking; I think that I might stick it out even longer to accumulate some vacation hours. Or maybe not even that. Maybe I'll skip the working stiff thing for a minute.

Bannnnd on the run, Bannnnd on the run...

That's the song I'm listening to right now. Since writing that, I'm now listening to Glory Box. This particular song by Portishead is a big influence on the current sound, y'know. There's a sort of pain, a kind of desperation and anxiety in that song that is so palpable, it's everything this project needs to be. Trip hop as a scene is so bizarre to think about, but I can't shake it's hold on me.

Bobby James is a song that completely enraptures my senses every time I hear it. I don't see how anyone could hate that song, how anyone could possibly not like N.E.R.D. Not Pharrell, I said N.E.R.D.

Yesterday I was tweaking some parts of Judy. I'm not sure about that one. I'll still include it, but I'm gonna revisit it in a few months. A few months, a few months, it's a good leeway. I'm probably not gonna have Hepburn done by the end of this year, it might be mid 2027. That's right, guys. Ha1f King might be in deep development mode for a long time, that'll just be how it is for a moment.

On my own, on my own, on my own. Putting my hands on the side of my head, focusing myself in the realm of the lay. I enjoy talking to some of my coworkers, they're incredible people in ways they'll never admit to. 

I saw myself in the mirror at work and started to realize how different I look now, y'know? I'm starting to realize why so many of the old people are so warm towards me in particular, I think they think I'm 16 or something like that. In case some of my readers don't know me personally, I am 23 years old. Still very young but... I won't lie guys, I DO use this naivety to my advantage sometimes to get them to leave me alone. Maybe I am evil, who knows?

D'ya know they don't actually allow me to write these at work? Tragic.

Ibrahim has just been blessed with a child, you know... so many wonderful things happen every day. The colluding forces of hatred and greed work so hard to convince us that these things don't matter. Stuff like this, it's everything. To assemble our efforts like this, to create the conditions where beauty can flourish, that is the key. A newborn child deserves safety, food, and peace. How many in our government, Israel's government, or in any firm or organization seek so desperately to deny us the gift of miracles such as this?

It's... whatever, man. I'm gonna keep making good shit happen, you know what I mean?

I have the eyeliner on; I'm working to get it back, slowly. I'm seeing what about myself I need, what about myself don't I need. And in my heart of hearts, I realized... I feel naked without my little lion marks. So sorry to the lineage of straight people in my family, but the bloodline might end here.

I'm not smoking anymore! So now my throat doesn't feel like death. I might try it occasionally, if offered, but I'm not gonna be doing that on my own I don't think. I have to clarify, I'm talking about carts here, not cigarettes. I haven't played Trumpet in several years, so if I smoked a cigarette, I think I would die on the spot, like a Half Life NPC. To all of God's strongest soldiers who smoke cigarettes, I salute you. Hopefully you make head chef one day.

How superficial can I be, how many multitudes can I contain? So much of why I'm feeling better is because somebody hot is at work today. Being surrounded by hot people, it's like being covered in a blanket from God. This is what Jesus did with the disciples, you have to understand.

I forgot to do an ending for this one. Have a good one!

9/8/2025 - Tout Doucement

 "Toujours, tout doux, tout doucement

Comme ça la vie c'est épatant..."

That song from Blossom Dearie is in my ears again. Jazz has a way of snaking into my memories; it's like the primordial soup from which uncertainty crawls out of. I think of Blossom Dearie when I think of being in over my head, making peace with a level of confusion too twisted up to even stress over. 

The thing is, it has nothing to do with the actual song lyrics. Tout doucement is about, well, "loving." It means "very slowly," and so I guess one could say it is kind of like that song Despacito...

That's my joke for this one. Not my best material, I'll admit.

I used to have Blue in Green warbling in my brain every day when I lived on campus. There was a useful kind of malaise that song. Miles' trumpet has a certain mood to it that makes it easy to backslide into some really somber stuff, y'know. Jazz, in my mind, has to remain the fundamental base particle of my understanding of music. It's not just the nuts and bolts, it's more like the bozons, quarks, nuons and gluons. It's not something seen with the naked eye; it's something fundamental.

Today, I'm thinking about jazz, and it's really because I'm thinking about myself. I remember when I used to play trumpet in the jazz band at Groves. I do really miss having a Trumpet, I should have stolen that one I kept at home. When I brought it back to the school, my teacher confessed that he did NOT know that Trumpet was in my possession. He told me I could have kept it with me forever, and he would have never known it was gone. It had a red case that was sort of broken, I found it sort of lying on the floor of the band room storage. I cleaned it up so I could play, actually. That's how much money these white people districts have got, you have to understand. They can afford to just give away several hundreds of dollars' worth of equipment.

So ... yeah, I have a history of fumbling the bag through a self-inflicted curse of "integrity."

All last week, in the corners of my mind I keep having these names repeat over, and over, and over. Not always attached to any songs themselves, you know? Errol Gardner, Charles Mingus, Herbie Hancock. I was listening to Fela Kuti on the way to the second day of the USPCN Conference.

It's weird because, I don't necessarily think of myself as a jazz person, per se, but it is fundamental to what I've grown into. Last week I remembered coming back from work and hearing dad spin some John Coltrane, but it wasn't one of the records I got for him, I think.

I remember watching that new doc about Ms. Rachel. Lindsay's perspective on this genocide opened the door to a lot of memories about my studies in undergrad, most notably what she went over regarding the Rwandan genocide. I think about how easy it is to get into that mindset of dehumanization, y'know. I think that's the scariest part of it all to me. When you really talk to someone who is more complicit in this stuff, you start to understand how... I guess I should say, weak minded, a lot of laypeople can really be about this stuff. It's just so, bizarre to me. 

There was an idea that the average person of the modern world, today, would have chosen to act in the scenario in which a holocaust happened in their lifetime. This has always been flagrantly not true, we know this, but I have to say... is there nothing that will convince the average Joe Shmo that he should care about kids being blown apart in Gaza? That he should care about child slaves in Congo? That he should speak against UAE supported mass rapes in Sudan? There is no amount of suffering these people can go through that will endear them in the hearts of most laypeople, it seems like. Y'know, because it's not aesthetically consistent with their curated aura to care about something bigger than themselves, for a lot of people. I think that when dealing with Americans, some people have to understand that most of us can't really see beyond creature comforts, superficial ideas of what a "kitchen table" issue is really about.

Remember how many people voted for Trump who claimed they just wanted to see prices go down? It's that kind of stupid. The kind of stupid that's almost impossible to fix. If you say out loud, to their face, that they had the ability to do something great, to stand against a holocaust, and they actively chose not to, despite it being well within their ability... that wouldn't even get them to act. They would just get mad that you ruined their fun. That's what it is for a lot of people. There are many people out there who are only endeared towards foreign people if they can be convinced that they're exactly like them. Y'know, they've got to make a movie or a meme or a product that's interesting enough to make the American mind perceive them as actual people. Treatlerites, the lot of us. Think about what happened with Ukraine, how many people just don't really give a shit about that anymore. Real people are still dying in that war, you know? There was a feigned sense of empathy many Americans had for the plight of a nation in need, not motivated by a desire to defend the humanity of all people. No, I don't even have to say it. You already know exactly what I mean. So much of what this culture values are just skin deep.

Think about how a lot of Zionists and Israelis alike would say, "Name one invention from Palestine," or something like, "There is not one reputable person in Gaza," bullshit like that.

It's this sort of meathead dehumanization. Setting aside the fact that there are many inventions and influential figures from Palestine throughout history, the very idea that the humanity of a people should be validated by how many iPhones they've invented is just... we really are primates, aren't we? Just apes, with very sophisticated ways of flinging shit at each other. We might have fusion reactors and international space stations, but maybe the reality that our peak does not define our whole can be seen in an examination that is not solely "positive."

Breaking from topic for a bit to just say that, sometimes at work, you encounter people who are just... not intelligent. At all. Like, the information I just gave you should cover everything you are asking me about. I try not to be this kind of person, but good golly, good grief. They let some of these people vote, you have to understand. That's why he's president; it's a dumbass on every block.

I am thinking about what I posted yesterday. This isn't that bad, but it is boring. I think maybe I just came on a particularly boring, slow day at work. I am the only Rec Leader here, it's weird. It's just me and my supervisor. Despite being late, it seems like we're getting along better today. There have been a lot of very dull or irritating customers today, but I'm handling it better given my current mission I'm putting myself through. Head on straight, locking in!

Hepburn is still happening, despite my objections to my own project. I must apologize to the defeated, bitter Brielle from yesterday, but this is just too fun, too interesting to throw away. As much as there are parts of myself that I feel like are hard to love, I can't deny how much I enjoy all of the things that characterize my interests, y'know? My eye has been drawn so heavily to kitsch lately, as a design language. Pop artists, graphics, shock jocks and punk rockers.

"Oh, everybody goes to parties...

They dance this mess around!
They do all sixteen dances!
They do the Shu-ga-loo... do the Shyyyyyyy Tuna... Do the Camel Walk, do the Hip O Crit, ahhhhh, hippy-hippy-forward-hippy-hippy-hippy-hippy-hippy-SHAKE..."

But you wanna know what is in my head non-stop, since 2 weeks ago? It's that Donna Summer song they used to play at Starbucks. It's not the one you're thinking of, no... it's they said it really loud, they SAID it on the AIR, on the radio, ooowhoaaaaaahhh, on the radio, ooowhoaaaaaahhh...

Last night I was tweaking track 6 of the album, called Judy. Initially it was gonna be a quicker paced sort of thing, that kind of punk. What I ended up doing was more Lou Reed meets Chipmunks on 16 Speed than Patti Smith, y'know. It's funny, cause what I was using as inspiration for my work yesterday was the gallery book I got, called Before, EASTER, After. I was, ironically, listening to Horses instead of Easter just the day before, cause I'm a fraud luddite (joking).

I think the next bag I'll dip into is Strawberry Alarm Clock, The Doors, Revolver era George Harrison, y'know. Psychedelic rock is what I mean. I would work in some Jimi, and maybe Jefferson if I really wanted to, but I'm not in that side of the bag right now, I think. I was in some Destroy All Monsters stuff last project, and I was thinking of, but did not emulate, Bob Dylan. I don't think I have the vocal quality necessary to do that.

Work got in the way for a sec, lemme remember what I was thinking about.

I'm up thinking about Fire Walk With Me again. Lynch has such an impactful method of winning over the senses; watching his stuff makes me feel like I'm living a different life. Experiencing the ballad of Laura Palmer through each incarnation of Twin Peaks really warps the senses and frays the nerves, y'know. It's a psychological malaise that infects my lexicon, everything about the warmth of tenderness and the chill of abuse feels more intense with such a fantasy on my mind.

Now I'm home, and I'm feeling fairly relaxed. Im gonna chill out for a second, and I might do a video update today. I'll see you in a bit.

9/7/25 - 1800

"Sometimes, it's best to remember wisdom. Sometimes, I must remember that I all I can ever know is that I don't know anything. I have no idea who anybody ever is."

This is the only section of my original entry for today that I still believe is true. I believe it is the only passage that authentically conveys what is in my heart.

It's now been a good 13 hours since I left Big Pink. That's right, I ended up going, had a blast. People liked my dancing again, that's always nice to hear. TV Lounge was nice too, the music was better, but its a great place to sit down and let my mind slip away. It was in doing that I realized that very same sadness you see in quotes.

Sometimes I read my past entries, and I notice what I've lost about myself.

I used to be a more poetic person, a more verbose person, before this job stripped all of that out of me. I used to be someone worth knowing.

I think that day, the day of my first call-off, was the day that ruined it all. I wasn't in a great situation regardless, yeah, I know. But I had it under control, yknow? I had the ease of what I knew, I had the stability, moderation of an empathetic center. Sure, there were problems, but I had a great illusion that things would get better if I just stayed the course, y'know?

It was that day that ruined it for me. That feeling will never come back.

Its like God rolled over my foot with his truck full of spite that day. Ever since then, my stride has been a bit off. I forgot how to talk to people, how to belive in myself. My capacity to love was forever harmed. It sounds like a bunch of bullshit, yeah. I guess maybe it is... but I had this cemented as fact in the testimony of my own friends, my own family.

My family keeps telling me they were just being nice, that they didn't want to force themselves onto my life. But they all knew that I wasn't in good place. That I was in danger, and that I had to let go somehow.

And then the worst thing happens, y'know? I saw one of the angels. Those giants I talked about a few months ago. And I wasnt myself, yknow. I really made an ass of myself to such a great person. I was absorbed into that psychosis, that need to talk to someone, anyone else, that I didn't see how much of a creep I am. I got addicted to social media just so I could try to make sure my friends might remember me. 

And for me to try to be candid, to tell someone so far beyond my station, that I'm caught in something so caustic, so detrimental... I should have never said anything. I barely know anyone, y'know? How could I know anything? This is what I meant, by that quote at the beginning.

I have a problem with parasociality. I'm blessed enough to not believe I have any connection with, y'know, internet people are actors or anything like that, no.

I have a more embarrasing problem.

Its acquaintances I meet in the real world.

I keep thinking that just because I have a nice conversation with somebody one time, or just because I used to hang out with somebody a few years ago, that it means we're actually "friends." I feel like I don't really know what a friend is, I guess. I keep expecting something that maybe shouldn't happen. I always take what people say so literally, y'know. It's like there's something wrong with me. I take everything so personally, and it's just... I'm so caught in my own mind. I keep thinking everybody likes the same jokes or the same stuff. I think about this project I've been working on, and there's a phrase I wrote for one song that won't leave my head.

"You're such an 'artist.'"

It's emblematic of that doubt I feel towards myself these days. Hepburn is such a bizarre, gross concept for an album. It's not something somebody who looks and sounds like me should have any business attempting to direct. You know, its like I thought I could say "This is an album about sexual violence and exploitation, inspired by vintage porno magazines and psychological horror films," and not expect my peers to be set aside. That's such a weirdo freak idea of what an interesting project should be.

I feel like im not even recognizing myself today, I don't know. I used to be able to relax, but ever since that day, months ago... I haven't really rested my shoulders, not even once.

I feel very ashamed of myself, is basically what I'm saying. The version of Gabriel that existed before the call-off might have been more creative, more poetic about something like this. I don't know if I can be that person anymore. The version of myself that all of my friends came to love just isn't there anymore. Now im just, creepy. Too pushy, too persistent. Never lets things go, takes everything too seriously.

That's not someone you'd want to see again. I'm learning to understand that it's my responsibility to own up to my faults.

I keep thinking that I'm a friendly girl, that I'm not doing anything bad, right? I keep trying to reach out to the people I care about. I keep thinking I can still be friends with everyone.

I think my problem is, I need to be comfortable with losing a sort of youthful camaraderie I've been chasing. The good days are over, y'know? And I'm teaching myself to accept that. To understand that it's okay.

I think about my favorite childhood movie, the Incredibles. That whole movie is about Bob being unable to move on from his glory days, being unable to accept that his current life is what he should feel grateful for. That it's okay that the past is gone. The problem is that the resolution of that hard truth is that he has a family he's built with Helen, a beautiful family of incredible people. With them he finds his spark to do what he loves again, together.

And look at me, right? I didn't learn the lesson of a kids movie. I keep missing my friends, as if we don't all have full time jobs, full schedules, no breaks. Everybody I know is working class, y'know? None of us have the time or money to live the kind of life I've been faking, even if it was unintentional on my part. I guess part of why I'm so mad is that, I don't have people like that in my corner anymore. I don't have anybody who sees me at eye level like they see each other. Im surrounded by Titans who shift the world with their hands, and I'm desperately trying to simulate a feeling of kinship with something so far beyond me.

I guess the first step is, enough with the flashes of indulgence. Enough with that ache in my heart. It's time to think less about myself, and focus more on being at peace.

I might go into work tommorow with nothing special. No eyeliner, no colorful pants, no jacket. I'll wear a normal bra, no fingernail paint. No music, no blog.

I'll message the families in the morning when I wake up, and once at night. I'll wake up early, eat breakfast.

I may not do this every day, y'know. Every now and again I might be myself again, but not tommorow. Tommorow I learn to respect the station I have been given as an individual. Tommorow, I will not complain.

I think part of that might mean shuttering the blog again, even if just for a little while. I keep using it as a window into my mind for an audience I cannot see. I realize that it is not natural to want to bear my soul like this every week. It's unbecoming of somebody who seeks a stable income, a reliable sense of community and kinship, you know? I have to understand what boundaries are again. I was a better person before I ever took the plunge, before I decided to be myself. The highs of exploring my transition and meeting new people have been unmatched, there are feelings I've held onto that are irreplaceable. But I need to come to terms with the fact that this, really, was just a season. Its time to settle down now.

I will not be detransitioning, in case any of these messages give that impression. In my mind, being transgender is an immutable element of my continued survival. To quit something like that would be tantamount to a kind of psychological death. I wouldn't go that far just to feel normal, you know? I've all but come out to all my coworkers, because it is really not something I think I should try to hide.

I think I will end my entry here for today. Who knows how I will feel tommorow. Im learning more about myself every day, and what I have learned is that I am a very fickle, very emotional transgender woman. I am learning to believe that this is okay.