metamorphosis

I am developing something that could be called a complex.

I am finding more and more of a struggle in approaching men online. It has begun to surface in face-to-face cruising as well. This sense of isolation I have is gaining coherence, becoming more concrete.

I no longer want to fit by presenting only part of myself. As a result, I do not approach as often as I have in the past. I wait for them. I want to see that they might be able to handle the all of me.

I am not butch. I am not uber-masculine of hyper-manly. I may been seen as such things, but I hold to the fact that in those moments the viewer is ignoring the rest of me that doesn’t fit their concept of hot. I do not care for repressing my whole self for the sake of bedding some guy that can only be into a piece of me. I am requiring more of myself involved with my arousal these days.

I no longer wish to hold to arbitrary lines draw between gender and sex. I am not fully sure that I was ever invested in such things…

I know to present myself wholly to the general public is to be black-balled from most inner circles. The idea of compartmentalizing my life and filtering out folks I don’t think can process all of me is bothersome at the best of it all, but I am trying… It moves slowly.

Everyone needs me to be this or be that or do this or do that. I am done. I need what I need and if the terms cannot be met on equal ground then I am no longer interested in sacrificing my wholeness for someone else’s gain.

Bother.

To be clear, I am not confused about my gender. I do not feel particularly masculine or feminine internally. I am a place in between. I am not confused by my body. I am a man. I have a penis. I enjoy both of those facts, but I understood that I could have just as easily been born a woman. I also understand that I would feel just as much a paradox in that body as this one. I do not wish to be a girl, I have no yearnings to play dress-up and be mistaken for a woman. Difficult thing considering how much I love my beard…

But skirts are fucking comfortable. And I love confinement and corsets have a wicked feel to them. And a wicked aesthetic as well.

I have known most all of my life that I am a freak. I have done a good job of surrounding myself with other freaks. However even in those circles, I have allowed myself to be seen as would most make others comfortable to see me. I am done with that.

I am tired of my skin being so plain and pasty. I have been working on a design to cover most of my flesh in ink. I started the basic concept some ten odd years ago and still have nothing done on my skin towards that end. I have been waiting for the money. It never shows. I need to make it exist and stop waiting. I need to become the person I have always been inside. I need to stop keeping others comfortable. I don’t do a very good job of it anyway…

I need to stop worrying about what others think. I need to stop caring what effect being me will have on my friendships, because – honestly – I do not have too many of them to mention as it is. I end up more isolated than not sacrificing my true self. It is time to stop waiting for people that cannot possible handle me to say hello and time to begin being who I am to spite what others need of me.

I have gone too long into my life ignoring this fact.