Confessions

Often times in the wee hours I stop and analyze myself, something that I wish I didn't do, because it makes me feel less optimistic about my life.

My train of thought sometimes leads me back to that fight I had with my Dad last June, where I broke down and spilled my guts. It left me feeling as though I had done something wrong, or perhaps a lot of things wrong, but I could never figure out what it was. I went to work that night, arrived late, and tried with every fiber of my being to keep myself together...because all I wanted was to break down. I have never been in such a state, and haven't been since. It was a scary place for my mind to be in. One I never want to revisit.

I have been yelled at too much in my life. Mistakes are wrong. If you can't figure it out, you're too stupid. You're a pig. It didn't matter what the situation was. The solution was to make me feel as though I was wrong, that I had fucked up. I've never been good at math beyond basic algebra. My teachers never wanted to give me extra help after school. Instead they sighed exasperatedly "It's so simple! Don't you see?" No sir, I don't. Just like you don't see I need help. And always I was too afraid to ask for it.

Let's not forget the bullying during my childhood years. There was one boy in particular who made sure to yell out "DYKE!" at me every time he saw me in the hallways. I've had things thrown at me. I've had people draw swastikas on my desk in history class, which I would rub off with my spit each time. Another boy made my life so miserable, I wouldn't go to the playground in my neighborhood for fear of him being there. No blow was too low for him. To make it worse, he rode my bus, and was in my class too; there was no escaping it.

I've been made to feel lower than others. Like I deserve less. Like a freak. Like I'm not allowed to be who I am because it doesn't fit in the nice little neat boxes.

Yes. I have issues. Yes. I have anger problems. Yes. I am overly defensive. I admit these things. You can thank the males in my life for giving them to me.

Oh and of course, apparently I need to get NO, I'M NOT LESBIAN tattooed on my forehead. Because who I'd fuck is everybody's major concern it seems.