My body is a cage

No, I don't necessarily consider myself fat. Or at least not any less worthy of love and respect for being so. This stems from something much deeper.

My identity is a little bit of a problem. Being otherkin and gender fluid can make things a bit difficult at times. I am quite skeptical in the end, believe it or not. I doubt my identity constantly (mostly the otherkin part). I feel it's who I am but it's killing me that I have no way of proving it. I feel like I'm just telling people something without any backup for it, and I hate that feeling - especially since it's impossible to get concrete backup for it, even for myself. All I have is my emotions, phantom limbs and some hazy memories. A gut feeling, no matter how strong, just doesn't do it for me anymore. Maybe I've turned bitter and lost my faith to some extent... And that thought makes me sad as heck.

What makes my mind go most haywire over this is probably the huge difference between my physical body and the thing that I feel is the real me, and the fluid nature of my identity. I wouldn't have such big a problem with this if I could do anything about this, if I could somehow express outward - to everyone - what I feel like I am inside. I feel like I'm constantly in disguise, fooling myself and everyone around me and I don't want to do that. I want to make them see, but I can't. I'm not sure if anyone believes me, and I don't always believe it myself. I wouldn't mind going under the knife, but it wouldn't be of much help. My gender identity is so fluid any operations wouldn't probably do shit, and might cause even more confusion. And, well, science still hasn't figured out how they could plant me a tail and ears and all that. And even then it wouldn't somehow be enough. I'm a shapeshifting being after all.

I would be okay with who I am if the very core of my being was more stable, I guess. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and have come to some conclusions that have caused some confusion in my little head.

I wish I had someone to blame for this, but I don't. I wish I had someone else to direct all this despise to, all this pain, but I don't. So it turns to myself.
I hate this stupid meatsuit. It's not ugly but it's not me either. I couldn't even pass as male even if I binded my tits and glued some damn pubic hair to my face. I just couldn't. My features are way too feminine for my liking, and I don't necessarily want to look like Justin Bieber.
"Looks don't matter." Fuck that, in the case of when they matter in terms of self expression and being open and honest.

Feeling like utter crap

This is basically what's lately been going through my head over and over again:

"I have absolutely no self control, no ability to take responsibility, I'm just drifting aimlessly through my life and will never get anywhere. I've dropped out of school twice, and just might do that again. It's like I just can't do it. Like, for some reason, I wasn't built for what others can manage so easily. What the fuck is wrong with me? I was fine before school, and I was fine in the summer.

I'm a fat fuck and I shouldn't fucking eat at all. I'm a disgrace, too average to be pretty and too average to even be considered disordered. I wish someone could see how I feel. Their eyes would burn in their sockets, though.

I want to tear my skin apart again.

And again.
And again.

I should probably die.
I'm just a burden to everyone and can't meet even my own expectations. I can't do anything right."

And I can't fucking stop this flow of thought no matter how hard I try. I can pause it, but it always bursts back on and I don't know fucking why because I thought I'd already be clear about the reasons behind this. But apparently I wasn't.


I know I was a bit fucked up when I was going out with Eric as well (Don't get me wrong, I'm much happier now that I have an actual man beside me instead of an English rat). I was in school then too, and super stressed. I think it might just be sneaky flashbacks of bullying and sexual harassment and stuff. I mean, those were going on roughly about the same time. And then came the huge changes in my life, which I couldn't deal with for long before losing it. I feel like I have no fucking right to be whining, like I've gotten off easy. I KNOW I do have the right but I don't feel it. I'm ashamed to be this broken again. Letting this utter bullshit strike back like this, after such a long good period.
I feel like the weakest person on earth. Probably because of my dad flipped every time I showed any negative emotions at home. And we never talked about anything with mum either. It's never been okay for me to actually express what I feel, and I'm not very good at handling emotions because I'm so used to bottling them up.

And so I use my wounds as my shield and as my voice.