*
i've been procrastinating an update forever. i wanted to write something upbeat and inspirational, and was waiting to tell you all how wonderful my life is and how great i feel.

Yes, perhaps this is the photo that best illustrates how i feel. Look closely at the eyes.
.
i'm not really in the mood for faking it tonight. So grasp yourself, because i don't make sense, and i'm not trying to.
.
But first, let me share with you my greatest fantasy of all:

Maybe i'll go as a barbarian fishmonger to the next fetish ball.
.
Once more, i have no idea of who i am. i mean, i do... all three of me. There are two who i would like to know better, whereas, i know all about the bad me. Only a couple people know her. She is one mean bitch. You see, the thing is, she makes the ones i love dislike who i am. Every single one of them. And then i have to change. She's a nagging bitch. And she's nagging at me right now. She's a mean motherfucker with spiked heels who enjoys tearing my heart to pieces. She's the reason i'm a cutter. She's the reason there is a pile of chocolate and marshmallow wrappers and a half empty jar of peanut butter and a teen magazine besides me right now. She's the reason i'm crying.
.
Excuse me for a moment, i need to make her shut up.

*
...

*
One day i will learn that birds of a feather flock together. Even when one is a lone rider. It has been on my mind lately, probably one too many times, the longing for the things that made me "me", and that i no longer can have, or be. Converse sneakers. Long nights out. Rave parties. Ridiculously cute outfits. Not feeling guilty about being a tom-boy. Dancing till my bones hurt. Making love to another woman. Being made LOVE to. Feeling completely comfortable. Letting go.

.
i changed my hair this week (again) for a specific reason, and Tuesday, well... Tuesday brought a lot back. i know what the One who matters will think when (if) He reads this... "I should not let her do these things if they make her feel sad about how she lives". i know He was pissed at me for having to pick me up at such a late hour. Its hard to explain... they don't make me sad. They make me happy. Really happy. Its the reminder of how rare these moments are, how alive they make me feel, and how high is the price i pay for them that makes me sad. i really wish He would take part of these parts of my life. i wish the price to pay was not so awful. But its not who He is. And He's not the active type. i am.
.
Singing. Dancing. Creating. Photographing. Brain-storming. Doing things. Making things happen. Those are the things that make my heart rejoice.
.
Surely, He is not that cruel to say and do the things He says and does out of the knowledge of what my worst nightmares are. He probably has already forgotten them. Or maybe when He is upset He does not care. But those sure are scary nightmares.
.
(That day on the train it occured to me that it would only take one moment of pain to die. And it would probably hurt less than a lot of the shit i've been through.)

.
The nasty inner bitch strikes again. Shhhh... shut up you stupid bitch. Its not like i'm gonna kill myself. i'm just trying to convince myself that its daft to be afraid.
.
Anyways, i can't take abandonment. Or better, i can. But no one likes who i become when i HAVE to be strong. Because she is the strong one. And she is evil.
*

*
I did a photo shoot Tuesday night. It felt great to have people telling me how incredible the things i do are, and how i should do more. i even felt... motivated. i did some burlesque themed photos for an incredibly talented new jewelry designer (he's so young and full of vision). We talked about people, and fashion, and inspiration... Ahhh... inspiration. i'm so full of it, and yet, i'm not. i also was at the right place at the right time and was interviewed by MTV and got to show off my feather fans and talk about my look and hand out a biz card. And to think that sometimes i feel so... boring.
.
i'm talented as well. And i'm a fucking coward!
*

*
So let me write yet another rant. Yet another mourning for my fear of being in need, of depending, of unleashing my whole. And of how i use people as an excuse for my running away from my full potential. (Am i redundant or what?!).
.
Do i love You? Yes, i do, especially when You are the lovable one. Because You too have bad days, and are self-centered. Maybe... It wouldn't make that much of a difference if i moved on with my personal projects and did things, but i focus on You so i won't focus on me. As long as i serve You when You want me too, and You have been so soft, so easy to please lately, so... vanilla..., it doesn't make a difference if i am at the sewing machine, at the computer, reading or whimpering at Your feet demanding attention. Perhaps the last is somehow annoying?
.
Yeah, i love You.
.
Even if You hate the real me. Even if the things that turn You are the ones that triggered this (my bad for reading those Fansadox comics, they are nasty and anyone who does those awful non-consensual things should be stopped)... i actually miss the times You took the time to "discipline" me. i learned to love the things You love, because You love them and they made You love me. i wish You KNEW that. You know i'm not even a real sub. i'm just Your slave.
.
i am a half-finished project. Although i gotta hand it to You for bringing out whatever little pin-up there was in me. Yes, You bring out the Tranny in me.
.
"Half a bee, philosophically,
Must, ipso facto, half not be.
But half the bee has got to be
Vis a vis, its entity. D'you see?"
*

*
My head is a scary place to be in all alone. Please, help?

.
Awww, i'll just sit in front of the tv in search of mindless entertainment and wait for my brain to melt away. Not feeling very talented or beautiful or special right now.
.
No, no, no. What i really need is a lovely vintage musical movie. For inspiration.
.
... And she had so much potential. All she needed was someone who could bring it all out. Tsc, tsc.
*

*
Hopefully tomorrow i'll be back into hypomania. Night night. Pin-ups don't cry on the floor wearing their mans clothes (and i love wearing my Man's clothes). They cry in their bodouirs, sipping champagne and looking glamorous.
.
i need an enema. And a party. Pretty pretty please?
*

*
mood: swingin' dangerously
now playing: trouble - shampoo


*
(As sad as i may feel, i still don't take myself seriously. Otherwise, i wouldn't be half this lovable.)
.
Yatta?!
*

*
And to change the note on another rant... the one scene in a movie that made me pee myself in the movie theater. Seriously, i'll never be able to sing that song again:

*

*
Ain't i a bipolar sweetie?
*