1-12-23
"Sen, the real you, your spirit, uncageable and untethered, the holy you, free."
i hate my body
i hate that i was born male
i dont think that i can get into heaven while i think of myself as male
i know that no man will ever get into heaven
i think that i will never deserve love while others think of me as a male
i want to be raped as penitence for being born male
however,
i am not trans
i dont just hate my body, i hate THE body. i hate all bodies and i hate all of the terrible fruits that god created.
all of them are evil jokes and traps that he puts upon us. sex is in every sense a curse that god put on humans to make us suffer.
i know this is something that the most vocally trans people do not realize.
gender is irrevocably tied to sex.
the reason i hate my male body and see the female body as heavenly is becaue of sex, and nothing else.
i have manic ("clouded") thoughts about these two images all the time, in my most holy reachings and in my filthiest dreams:
the despairing, withered, deathly, spiteful, violent, louse, bone sack man, and the full, dense, healthy, powerful, towering, righteous and stoic woman. (she hates me so much.)
these two are nothing but empty bodies, given disgusting empty meanings invented by a dying despairing, blind and manic people.
they have nothing to do with anything except sexual attraction and my personal regrets. (both of these do nothing but cloud thoughts.)
gender is a construct that is contingent on the current society's made up stupid ideas.
it is not that the rules of gender are subject to change, but that there are undeniably no rules at all.
the chromosomes you were born with and whether you fertilise or nurse an egg are as important as your height or whether or not you can curl your tongue.
meaningless junk that god makes us think about for no reason.
every idea of female or maleness is based on nothing but centuries of human cultural history, just years and years of embarassing art, made up junk.
when i am free from god's disgusting manic world,
when i am free from man's self imposed torture machine,
i'm not trans
i'm not a man
i'm not a woman
i'm not anything inbetween
i'm not a human
i'm not a person
I just am
this is true in all cases
(recently read grlofswords and kristoferthomas)
(
Seri, 37 min
transness is a really important question, because it's completely based on how one thinks about their body. if you believe in detachment, there is no need to make your
body fit into a made up shape that you feel other people want it to be or not be, your body is actually completely inconsequential, just like everything on earth. but if
you believe in the system of gender and the power of the material, then the dichotomy is so overpowering that trans people do anything to have other people think of them as X or Y.
what do i want to be? "a good person"
what do i want to be? "a woman"
these two are completely unrelated
i understand that transitioning doesnt have to come from self hate, but any yearning that is yearning for a bullshit made up concept like gender norms is just torture
that you dont actually have to partake in
and thats why i think that any serious yearning for surgery or passing as or social acceptance is a form of mania, and a form of dis-order
:(
it makes me sad to say that, i truly think the world is a terrible place
i am a gender abolitionist
Seri, 29 min
i dont want to be a girl i want to be a good person
i dont want to be a girl i want to be a good person
Seri, 26 min
anywhere that desire takes me will not conform to other people's ideas, only my own, only ever my own
:)
)
important dream 12-16-22
i did something really bad. i went into a room in some complex like a school or something, with a figure that represented mom and a figure that represented my grandmother and a mature, loud, tan woman. i tried on an anime cosplay dress that was in the closet for non sexual reasons, but it quickly got sexual. the woman, who had put on a mokou outfit from the closet, came on to me. i really didnt want to, i didnt want to do it in a dress, with my mom watching, and at school, and i didnt know or like this woman. i domt remember if there was a transition from not hard to hard but i ended up i laying down on some desks while she jacked me off under the long skirt and i kissed her and she said mean things. i had no strength. i had my hand on it but couldnt do anything. my leg was writhing, scraping the desks, and i couldnt move my body by choice. as i got close i got scared, because i promise i really didnt want to do it. as it got closer she slowed down and hit it around.
i dont know how else to describe the feeling than to say i wanted to cum more than anything in the world. every muscle in my body was inert. this feeling doesnt happen very often at all to me. eventually it happened, bursting brimming with upsetness and fear, and then release. it actually happened in slow motion. any feeble grip i had left left me completely. it got everwhere, on my outfit, on my face, she said "you can do one out into the air" and directed it away and it hit the ground near the mom-figure, who hadnt moved the whole time but was watching facelessly.
i felt like i was dead. my values and experiences had moved beyond anything in the room or on earth. my neck muscles were made of water and white cream, and my head sunk in as much as possible.
it was still going, and she got on top (her mokou pants were there before but they were gone now) and put it in while it was still coming. i woke up.
i havent had a dream like this in i think ever, this visceral. im really upset.
alice otsu
12-11-22
in a moment where my memory served right by me as it hadnt in a long time
i had a girlfriend in highschool, and we were both just really horny, we would just do sexual stuff all the time, often after school in residential alleyways, as you might have heard. it lasted less than six months, she started talking with me less and then she cheated on me, i wanted to stay together but she broke up with me. i said a lot of incredibly stupid things after that, and we never talked again.
we took each other's virginity on my grandmother's couch while she and my little brother were running an errand, and we threw the condom into my grandmother's trash, i didnt orgasm, there wasnt enough time. she got a call from her mom during it and she took it and muted it. we had sex twice after that, one time in an alleyway surrounded by yellow flowers, and one time in her room, we lied to my dad so that we'd be alone in her house. i came prematurely that time and she was upset, then i laid down like a baby and she jacked me off until i had to go, i didnt get hard again.
it messed with my head a lot. it made me both desire sex a lot and hate sex a lot. i looked up to her, and i still do.
whenever she gave me a bj, as she was in control, she would insist on trying to go to her throat, and would think its hot when her eyes would water. one time, one of the earlier times, she let me cum in her throat/mouth, and then she vomited it onto the gravel we were sitting on. i said i was sorry and she said dont worry its my fault. we covered it up in gravel.
we were young, she was way too young, she was 14 i was 16. she was born the same year as my little brother.
she told me that in middle school she sucked a guy's dick but he was an asshole or something. he went to our hs i think i saw him sometimes, i didnt think much of it.
i forgot. i knew her in elementary school. we were both in the video club where we would make announcement broadcasts in windows movie maker. she said that she looked up to me back then bc i knew how to use it. she went to a different middle school. because ive known her for so long and because ive never had any other relationship like it, i think of her as family.
her dad killed himself. every time i think about this i feel so bad. im so sorry. im so sorry. i thought about it enough that he feels like my own family member. she would never show many signs of being upset about it, it was a long time ago, but whenever i picture it (she told me how he did it) i feel it so painfully. its the only thing in my life linking me to actual hardship, and because i feel bad about having it easy i would remind myself of it.
her mom was borderline abusive, she would yell and degrade her (one time she called her while i was with her and she talked to her while i was holding her. i dont know if it was this time, but one time she cried while we were sitting together, and she looked right into my eye while the tears pooled in her eye crevice and on her nose bridge. i wish i had cried). she would talk about how she would buy her and her sister stuff when she felt bad about yelling but wouldnt stop yelling. i think she liked me, one time she made her cry and then asked me what to do. i didnt say anything i just mumbled.
her mom is hispanic and her dad is italian. she speaks spanish. i dont.
she explicitly said she had a thing for white guys.
one time we made marinara sauce together at her dad's mom's house. this is probably my favorite memory of her. i wanted to live with her, we would write fantasies about living in a place like her grandmother's house, which had lots of windows and plants. we often just wanted to be free, independent and adult. to shower together.
she would video call me while in the shower, i think she put the phone in a bag or she had a high shower rack. we couldnt hear each other unless she went up close to it. i would just watch. this was the comfiest time of my life. i am so indebted to her. i look up to her so much.
i dont even know how this happened, but we agreed that i would bring a belt to school and she brought a short skirt to change into, and then in our normal spot she laid stomach down over my lap and i was supposed to hit her butt with it and hold her arms. i reached in to her vagina a couple times as well. when it was over i asked if she came (i dont even know if i ever once made her orgasm) and she said "yeah like seven times". i thought that made sense, i didn't know anything. she said she lied about it later.
one time i did a video call while i was shaving, one of the first times if not the first time, idk. she laughed at how much shaving cream i used because she knew how little hair i had.
i think i started to get clingy, she had a lot of cool girl friends, and one time she went to a protest with them and i tried to text her but she didnt respond for a couple hours, she said she left her phone in the car or something but she probably was just ignoring me, rightly. near the end she talked about wanting to spend more time with her friends than she was, and that i was in the way of it.
near the end, i realize, she took care of me like a mother. we went through cliche things like pictures and flowers and laying together, something was wrong, but she went through it like she was dressing me, changing my diaper, or waiting for me to follow her, opening and closing her hand to get my attention.
she knew me so well, she knew what an idiot i was, and she treated me so well because of it. she wasnt upset at all about breaking up, she was so smart about it. she was wearing a red flanel shirt, which id never seen before. i was a slug.
we both knew that it was ending. she straightened my collar and gave me a kiss on the head and my lunch, now have a good day today, ill see you after school, do your best. in the later parts of my memories she even feels taller than me, when i think we were about the same height.
after it we went very silent, i think she had another bf the next year, who wasnt the guy she cheated on me with
(it wasnt really that much of a cheating, i think she said she was sick and then went to another guy's house, played fortnite and made out. she told me she did it soon after, it was in the third floor stairwell. she told me about him too, that he was funny and loud, which i wasnt, i think i remember right he was hispanic (i am extremely white). i agreed with everything she said and said itd be okay. she was sad about it but, and i dont know if this is real or part of my recent narriatives about her, i feel like she was sad about me more than him. it's a specific face of hers in my head.)
i saw her in the hall once, and then she went to a different school.
we texted for a while after officially breaking up though, she was so nice to me. i was really stupid. she left me on read after i said something strange about regretting feeling like i was a dad, and ive never made any contact since.
ive only recently looked at her instagram account, five years later. ive been trying to take apart my past after trying to ignore thinking about her for a long time. she might be gay (she talked about it before), she's really pretty, thats all i know.
i really want to talk to her. ive never had another relationship like her. ive been lonely my whole life.
but im afraid she still hates me, or doesnt think anything of me. we wanted to get married before. which i say to suggest that there probably isn't another person who she's had that experience with, so perhaps.
i still think past her is a better person than current me. current her is unobtainable for me, i know she's only gotten better.
i dont want her to be my friend. i want her to be my sister. i want her to be my family. she knows so much about me, she's known me for so long, she knows me so well. i just want to show her how far ive come, and how much im stuck. i want her to patronize me and treat me like a kid again, to laugh at my stupid paintings and my girly clothes.
there's nothing i could show her that would make her happy with me, i know that.
ive been addicted to porn ever since i was ten years old, and she knew back then. i want to let her know that im still worthless and stupid, i want her to tell me i am, i just want to hear it from her, in text, youre really stupid, dont talk to me, shut up, i hate you, what's wrong with you, why are you like this, and go back to her boyfriend or girlfriend.
but i still want her to love me. like a brother. i just want her to accept me.
i want to sleep in the same bed two feet apart and facing away. i dont ever want to touch her body, as penitence for all the horrible things ive done to it. i would never even hold her hand, or drink from the same cup. my favorite parts of being with her were seeing her in pajamas or naked, without makeup and with messy hair. i want her to see me open like that, i want to vomit all over the floor and help her clean it up.
i want to be her and her to be me, as peers. as common witnesses.
im just so alone.
the only time i cry is when thinking about her.
"me in you and you in me..."