A few years gone by...Wake up. Get to work. Get home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Every day of my life. It's so boring. Where's the thrill, where's the excitement? The passion? The love? My life is so dull but so full of problems. Like the depression I'm still fighting. The self harm I never managed to completely overcome (oh God, the scars all over me. So ugly...). The memories of a rough past, keeping me up at night. Only one thing keeps me going. The online life I've been building for so long. The friends I've made there. The sweet and kind words, the wonderful things I got so see and read. The things I made myself that make me proud. My real life is a bore but my Internet life makes up for it.A few years gone by...3 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
30 Trans QnA30 Trans QnA3 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
1) When did you realize the term transgender referred to you?
well when I was younger I was always considered a tomboy. Instead of barbies and dolls I would play with trucks and pokemon(I actually know how to play the card game). Anyways I had my hair all boyish and had a whole bunch of guy friends, all that fun stuff. Later I started to wonder what it would be like if I were a guy and have dreams of being a guy. Early 2013 I had a break down about how I'm not a guy and I cut off all my hair crying. Then after a while I learned about what genderfluid is (thanks Nick). So I started labeling myself as that and was okay. Though when I looked into the mirror and saw a girl and was so upset. FINALLY I was done from people calling me a lady, because I just stopped feeling like a girl I felt like a guy 95% of the time, so I just say I'm trans.
2) How did you choose your name, and what names were you thinking about using and why?
Well I actually changed it 4 times. Before I came
But of Course I Grew Up.I remember how when I was little, every time we went on car trips, even when it was just to Aunt Lulu's a half hour away, on the way home I would always either fall asleep or pretend to. I would hear you whisper to Mom in the passenger seat, "Are they asleep?"But of Course I Grew Up.3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
(Because that was when I wasn't embarrassed to rest on Matty's shoulder; now I can hardly say hello to him. I think in this sibling relationship he's Elsa and I'm Anna - except I got all the anxiety.)
She would whisper equally as softly, "I think so." Matt always spoke up if he wasn't - to them or me. Sometimes we schemed and pretended to sleep together, there in the backseat; I'm still not sure why that was so much fun or felt so naughty. Normally one of us ended up snorting trying to hold back our laughter, anyways.
And when we would get back home, pull in the driveway, Mom (who was still Mommy back then - she's still Mommy to Matt and I can't help but smile every time he calls her that) wou
Memories of Brass and Blue Clack.Memories of Brass and Blue1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
That was our home phone, settling unevenly in its base after a ride in my mother's not-quite-steady fingers.
"Well, what happened?" That was Dad, his voice dressing that special kind of casual that camouflages apprehension in front of children. But we were all adults, at this point.
"She passed away." Mom, using words that seemed too formal for her own mom. Looking back, I'm pretty sure she was trying not to cry.
And that was me. I did something that was a bit more soundless: I turned myself off. My brother exited the living room in silence, and my father embarked on a stream of consolation phrases to guide my mother through her consternation; I just sort of watched, at a distance that felt miles upon years away from three feet of couch and cushions. Little things, like a stray line of silver along Mom's hairline, or the fact that Dad sings bass but often spoke tenor, became magnetic
sechs.Man hört von Schulen in Amerika, dass Kinder mit Schusswaffen zum Unterricht erscheinen. Einen ähnlichen Skandal gab es bei uns nur einmal, aber da hat sich ein Pärchen aus der Neunten geküsst. Es ist zwar nicht genau dasselbe, aber Gegenmassnahmen mussten trotzdem schleunigst ergriffen werden.sechs.3 weeks ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Die Schulleitung sagte: „Wir haben in der letzten Zeit ähem … beobachtet, dass … ja, dass sich von den älteren Kindern welche … ähem … ja, geküsst haben, und da haben wir uns natürlich gefragt, ja, was hat das für eine Wirkung auf die Kleineren … und vor allem wie können wir sie davor schützen.“
Die Neunteler sind wie Erwachsene, dachte ich als Fünfteler. So gross. Wenn man dann wirklich einmal selber erwachsen wird (nicht, dass mir das passiert wäre) und es läuft einem ein Neunteler über den Weg, denkt man: So klein. Kann der schon zusammengehängt schreiben? Da sie
The Rain ChildWhen I was younger, I longed for independence because with independence came solitude. Something that reminded me of my unique childhood…The Rain Child4 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I remember when I was just a little boy and every time it would rain, I found myself staring out of the window for hours and hours contently watching the rain run down the side of the house where it gathered into a great big puddle on the uneven pavement. I would listen to the droplets as the hit metal gutter and I’ll never forget its melodic tune. It’s hard to say that I was an average child: I saw puddles but I did not long to disturb them. I did not wish to jump in them; however, if I did wish to bother the puddle, it would be only by me sticking my finger in it quickly to watch the ripples slowly disband.
Every night that it would rain, I found myself unable to sleep. This was not because I thought the rain was disruptive, but because I was intrigued. Oh, how I longed to be on the city streets with nothing on more than my old b
acht.Psychotherapeuten alter Schule lassen manchmal ihre Patienten ein Bild von deren Kindheit malen. Wenn ich ein solches Bild von meiner Kindheit malen müsste, dann sähe es so aus, dass man rechts im Vordergrund meinen Bruder sieht, der mehr als die Hälfte des Bildes beansprucht. Sein linker Arm greift aus dem Bild heraus, so als ob er den Betrachter würgen würde. Die rechte Hand ist zu einer Faust geballt, die hoch aufgezogen über seinem Kopf zu sehen ist. Das Gesicht ist in Wut verzerrt. Im Hintergrund, etwas links von der Mitte, sieht man unsere Eltern, klein, unscharf und verschwommen. Halb stehen sie vom Geschehen im Vordergrund abgewandt, halb stehen sie einander zugewandt. Vermutlich besprechen sie gerade eine schwierige Erziehungsfrage. Sie bemühten sich nämlich immer sehr darum, ihren Kindern nur die beste Erziehung angedeihen zu lassen; aber allen guten Vorsätzen zum Trotz waren gerade Familienferien für mich oft eine Tortur. Ichacht.1 week ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Her name is SusanHer name is Susan. Her eyes are never the same color. Sometimes brown, sometimes green, and sometimes gray. She rarely smiles, but when she does, it is a small, wary smile... And if you look closely you can see the chips in her porcelain mask.Her name is Susan2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Her name is Susan, and her eyes are the color of ghosts. She rarely smiles, but when she does it is filled with hope and renewal and pain. She wears her scars like a passport, marking where she's been.
Her name is Susan, and her eyes are the color of wretched memories. She rarely smiles, but when she does it is fierce and loyal and brave. She is my best friend.
BurningShe was kind. And smart. And soft. And warm. And funny. As big of a geek as I was.Burning3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
And her hair was always in two long braids. For some reason I was really into that.
We were both on the same local forum. She knew who I was, but that was it. Yet I still remember the first time I saw her.
Camo-pants, tank-top, pigtails, arms crossed. She looked tough. And then, at me. I looked away.
Yet I'd glance back and, she was still there. She'd do the same.
Some number of days, this played out. Her, standing weirdly far with her boyfriend. Me, always keeping stock on who was still here, and where exactly they were within "the here". At least, I think that was it.
Eventually, we held an event and everyone showed up. I took pictures. She was in a flavor shot that made it onto the forum, and I guess having her soul stolen was a good enough excuse to introduce herself to me.
Turns out I did know her o
My First Sole KissMy First Sole Kiss4 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
MY FIRST SOLE KISS
Honestly, I have not a real date when it happened, but I was seven or eight years old. Her name was (or is, I don’t know nothing about her) Patricia, and she was 18 years old, she was the maid of the house, with long black hair, not fat, not thin; she had the features of a native girl, strong taino roots are in her physic. Patricia used to work as maid in my hose from 8 of the morning to 5 of the evening, Mondays to Saturdays; Saturdays she worked only to midday.
When I arrived from school at midday, Patricia has made almost all of her duties. When I eat my meal, and watched some cartoons, my dad went to work and I stood at home with my grandma and Patricia, alone. Patricia, when was doing the cleaning of the floor with the broom and the swapper, usually was barefoot, and usually stood that way when everyone (adults) left home for work.
Patricia was very kind with me, always talking to me, playing with me, so we created a friendship and a trust very uniqu
BernadetteI saw her today. At least I think it was her. It was an old news clip from Zuccotti Park and the Occupy Wall Street movement. There was a woman trying to stand down a police officer. The officer had a can of pepper spray. Things did not end well for the woman. Yet even as she was taken into custody by the police officers, she remained defiant despite the bloody nose and swollen, teary eyes. I wasn't sure but it could have been her. It could have been Bernadette.Bernadette3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Bernadette, that's what the priests and nuns at school called her. And they called her that often, usually when asking her to visit the disciplinarian or guidance councilor. Sometimes it was for fighting, sometimes for cutting class, sometimes for smoking in the bathroom. Sometimes she got in trouble for being too friendly with her dance partner during school dances. Yeah, I was her dance partner many of those times.
Her friends called her Bernie and she had a reputation as a wild chil
Once a year, maybe twice,we called it the three month pledge.Once a year, maybe twice,1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Daddy would get drunk and do something mean or stupid. Last time he wrecked the car doing 100 on the highway with an open bottle in the cup holder and the time before he read all Mom's e-mail and took some dating website spam as a sign of her cheating. He paced the hallway, the dog came and hid under my bed, my brother slept in his bedroom. His door was locked, so I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but I thought about Mom coming home from her sister's.
An abusive man knows what he's doing,
but I swear we lost him sometimes. I went downstairs to find him shirtless and red, glass in his left hand, empty bottle in the right until he dropped it. It shattered and I hesitated in my doorway while he tried to call my mom again. I said, "Daddy?"
There was no thought in his eyes.
He threw the phone at me but it broke on the wall. He growled and spit and ran downstairs, I don't remember where the glass went. He told me he'd bring my mom home because we all mi
Exercise: Creative SelfSo now I put myself under the microscope, and attempt to classify my own creative cells, in the hopes of better understanding my own place. In my worst moments, I feel like I bring nothing, as if I am a walking bag of cliches. I recognize my use of tropes, and I see their usage as a weakness, a safety net which I’m too chickenshit to perform without. Some of my pieces feel mind-numbingly predictable, and those are the ones I cringe when I think about. I might have had a blast writing them at the time, especially since familiar stories are much easier to reproduce. But looking at them after the fact, leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and induces a genuine anxiety with regards to my current abilities and whether I have any potential future.Exercise: Creative Self1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
On a clearer day, I can see my positives. I very much enjoy writing about intangibility. Attempting to describe the sort of feelings that are patently difficult to describe is a fun challenge, and when I feel I pull it off with the right rhythm an
fuenf.Meine Mutter schenkte mir ungefähr zu der Zeit ein Aufklärungsbuch, als Julia neu in die Klasse kam. Ich fand das blöd (das Buch meine ich, nicht die Julia – obschon, die fand ich zuerst ja auch blöd). Den Zeitpunkt hatte meine Mutter eigentlich nicht schlecht getroffen, obschon sie ja von Julias schicksalsträchtiger Ankunft nichts wissen konnte. Trotzdem war ich: „Ein Aufklärungsbuch? Warum würde ich ein Aufklärungsbuch lesen? Ich weiss ja alles schon! Ich bin allwissend geboren worden!“fuenf.1 month ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
So liess ich das Buch demonstrativ ein paar Wochen liegen, um Mami keinen Anlass zu Triumphgefühlen zu geben. Nachdem die innere Frist, die ich mir gestellt hatte, abgelaufen war, blätterte ich irgendwann ein bisschen darin herum und musste Unerhörtes vernehmen.
Mit grossem Erstaunen und fast noch grösserer Empörung las ich, dass sich alle kleinen Buben in ihre Mutter verlieben und ihren Vater aus dem Weg räumen wo
titluriVrei un mister?titluri2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Ia vezi ce se afla dincolo de oglinda sparta din hol. Sau de usa de la sifonier putin crapata. Incearca sa privesti in umbra aia ce o vezi de la geamul din camera ta si spune-mi daca ii simti fiorul. Opreste-te putin din a te gandi de ce esti aici, si gandeste-te daca nu ai fi aici gandul tau ar mai exista? Sau asta e tot ceea ce te reprezinta?
Vrei un raspuns?
Ce ar fi daca pentru o clipa te-ai opri din jocul asta creat pentru nebuni decatre tine, de a gasi lucruri acolo unde nu sunt, si pentru a clipa ce ar fi daca ai deschide pe bune ochii si te-ai privi in vitrina aia pe langa care treci in fiecare dimineata spre munca sau scoala. Ia zi-mi? Te vezi? Sau nici macar numai esti in stare sa te recunosti? Vrei un raspuns pe bune? Spune-mi te rog cand a fost ultima data cand ai incercat sa te gasesti, nu prin ceata ci prin picaturi de apa, adieri de vant, raze de soare sau orice simteai ca iti dadea viata. Cand a fost ultima data cand ai fost treaz sau treaza? Cand a fost
Love: A Memoir.A short memoir.Love: A Memoir.2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Today. Today is a word I know well. It is the place in which both beginning and end meet. I have nothing to give this day but what it is that is left in me. My mind has become the reflection of who I am to those who reflect me in their voice, presence, and thought. This mind of mine has become clouded in sorrow for what seems like an eternal curse. A never ending cycle of love and eventually it's death. I must remember I am a mere child on this earth, a soul that has not lingered long enough to claim wisdom or strength as a means of defining properties. This is the journey down the well of life that I have chosen to take. With it I carry my satchel of memories, a pen to reflect, and paper to remember by. Today I reflect on what was true and what was beautiful to me everlasting. Such feelings were reality to me just as they were when those present moments lived the hours of their life. Forgetting them as one would forget pain is not something possible for me to do. This
Escapism via Day Dream HypnosisAll my life I have dealt with anxiety problems. I developed my own personal coping skill. I call it Day Dream Hypnosis. Here is how it works.Escapism via Day Dream Hypnosis2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
In order to deal with stress and anxiety, loneliness or boredom, I can escape from reality, cutting off the outside world. I sort of escape into a make believe imaginary world for hours. I have used this as a way to cope with anxiety all my life. I just forget about things and go away into my fantasy world.
It's like I get immersed in myself. Like I am walking around and doing things, but the rest of the world is sort of muted or separated from me. Kind of like a meditative hypnosis. I am only partly in the real world. I feel relaxed when I am like that, but kind of walking around in a day dream. I can find it difficult to come out of this too if it goes on for too long.
It's too easy for me to drift off. My father used to call me "Drifty Dave" because I could walk around l
The Only ForceThe Only ForceThe Only Force2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Love; noun: the only force capable of reaching across two closet doors
A Testament to Childhood Childhood. I guess it varies from kid to kid. I’m a teenager. So I’m still in “childhood”, if that’s the word for it. Childhood is when you get happiness from anything, but now I’m older, and I think that time is gone.A Testament to Childhood1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I mean, consider. My childhood ended, several times. When I couldn’t play with dolls without feeling immature, when my cousins wouldn’t play Harry Potter with me, when my innocence was gone, when I found out that Santa Claus isn’t real, it ends at many different points. It’s like your childhood is a puppet on strings, and the more strings you cut, the faster childhood ends. Lots of my strings have been cut, maybe I just holding on by one little string, about to snap.
Some of the big changes are when you get to middle school. Your innocence is stripped from you. Kids use words you never use, they make stupid, mature
How I Got HereI was about ten years old when I began to watch Batman: The Animated Series and Superman: The Animated Series after school every day.How I Got Here1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
At the time, my father had recently walked out on my family and my mother was always working, trying to make ends meet. (My father had been the sole income of our household.) The stories of Batman and Superman captured my imagination in a way no show or book or movie had ever done before. I suppose it gave me something to think about other than all the bad things going on in my life at the time, and I even began to feel like Superman embodied the things that a father should be. I remember creating superheroes of my own who were young and ill-trained in their powers so that Superman could adopt them and take them under his wing and protect them as a proper father should.
So excited by my own ideas, I would talk about them to anyone and everyone I could find. My sisters, my brother, even my neighbors were subjected to story after story. I tol
NG Application - OpalleName: Opalle (prounounced O-pahl)NG Application - Opalle1 week ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Height/Weight: 5’3.5” / 123
Career: Shopkeeper (Bakery)
Being a redman, she, of course, has red skin. Her skin is a tad bit lighter than other redmen. She has dark brown hair that she braids into a fish tail off to her left side. She has a slight widow’s peak but no bangs. She has dark brown eyes.
She generally wears long skirts that reach to the floor, a custom in her tribe. They vary from crimson, soft brown, and burnt orange. Burnt orange is her favorite. She wears a pale brown, scoop-necked shirt that she tucks under her skirt. She wears no shoes, but wears two gold bracelets looped with eachother.
- Reserved - She tends to keep to herself a lot, mostly putting her work into keep
sieben.Freudig feiern die Eltern jedes Ereignis im Leben ihres Nachwuchses. Bei Babys kommen die in recht schneller Folge. Das erste Lächeln, das erste Zähnchen, die ersten Härchen, die ersten Worte, die ersten Schritte, die erste durchgeschlafene Nacht, … dann der erste Schultag, das erste Fahrrad, der erste Schwimmunterricht, der erste selbstgedrehte Joint – alles Meilensteine im Leben eines Heranwachsenden, die in der ganzen Verwandt- und Bekanntschaft verbreitet werden wollen. Aber mit dem Einsetzen der Pubertät ist plötzlich Schluss damit. Niemand schwärmt der Nachbarin: „So süss, gestern hatte er gerade seinen ersten Samenerguss.“ Niemand geht zur Grossmutter: „Letzte Woche hat unsere Kleine ihre erste Periode gekriegt, wir sind so stolz!“sieben.2 weeks ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Von einem Tag auf den anderen gehen Eltern davon aus, dass ihre Kinder es faustdick hinter den Ohren haben und es treiben wie die Karnickel. „Vertrauen ist gut, Misstrauen i