Well, you’re wrong! Ding! I’m very, very guilty of doing it again and again.
Oh, sorry. I couldn’t resist. my personality has swung round to girl again, bear with it. I do that. I believe the label for it would be “Genderfluid (that’s what my Logo represents, silly! :D)” gosh, how cringe-worthy! who comes up with these names? honestly… I can’t say it with a straight face. I didn’t want to be, but people insisted that was totally how I am. They could tell.
Oh, right. The journey. Events has conspired with me to get me to write this. I was reading some stuff, and Come Across this:
Computers refusing to turn on, power turning off, games being brought to the desktop just so I can see that the Time says exactly:
11:11. I just started, flabbergasted. Oh. Wow.
I’ve been seeing that quite a bit, actually. along with the sequence 555. What it means, I have no idea. oh, Google it? please. I don’t trust anyone. Some will say things about angel numbers. I don’t trust angels. So I disregard it. But recently, After being called arrogant, angry, and rather scary. Well, when I’m thinking like a boy, that is.
Now I’m thinking about it from a different angle. A very upset one at that. Do you believe in past lives? Well, my Body certainly seems too, regardless of what I think. my goodness, I think I am finally beginning to understand why I can’t get immersed in movies, games, or anything of the kind. I’m really, really traumatised. and have massive trust issues. Sure, I try and hide behind arrogance, and Saying that everyone else doesn’t have the slightest idea what I’m talking about.
The things I say are even somewhat true. but it doesn’t change what I am doing. I put myself above everyone else, saying they don’t understand. and perhaps they don’t. I have only ever wanted to teach, not lord it over people. So get your rears into gear, people! (I have no idea why I just said that)
But strip all of it away. And All I find left, is a scared, traumatised Girl. Have you ever tried to remember your past lives? I have. Most of the things I remembered seemed to involve me being killed or abused in one way or another. One I was living in some cottage out in the country, in goodness knows where. I had a husband, kids. and then suddenly he pulls out a knife while I’m in the kitchen and stabs me in the back.
Oh. Okay. Why? I’m not very good at this whole remembering thing. I do have a birthmark on my back though… that’s kinda disturbing. in the same spot, If I am right.
But that didn’t get under my skin. So let me tell you the story. I’m a bit of a loner, If you couldn’t guess. anyway, one way or another, I ended up going to an acting class every Friday afternoon. It was a bit of a shock seeing teenagers again, really.
I have managed to bond with some of the girls there as well. Oh, there was some awkward moments when people accused me of being gay. Oh, that’s right. there was a line where I used the word boyfriend. right. and if I wanted too, I could say girlfriend. I didn’t really care. Gosh, it was embarrassing. O__O. naturally people were all like: of course he’s not gay.. well, I’m not entirely sure that they are wrong…
*Ahem* the important stuff. In typical fashion, the play or whatever you call it was tailored for today’s youth. apparently that means social media, the internet, what have you. Honestly, I didn’t grow up with the internet. That was more from a sheltered upbringing than anything else.
okay. Well, I will try my best to explain without getting too upset. So Some of the scenes we did were about drugs, alcohol and this teenage culture. to say I was out of my element is an understatement. I was a bit disinterested, so I read the next few pages of lines. I really, really wish I hadn’t. It was lines for a scene involving a date rape via drugging.
Give me a minute, sorry. I need to compose again. I just tore my eyes away as quickly as I could when I realised what it was. it was alright until we actually had to start acting it out. My damn legs were shaking, and I wanted to just run out of the building. But no, they wanted me to pretend to be nasty. of course. Well excuse me for being traumatised.
I can’t tell anyone, they won’t take me seriously. I tried telling someone who actually deals with rape, and they didn’t hear what I was trying to say. So what do I do? I have no idea. I feel like I’ve been laid low. Humbled.
All my talk of grandeur and otherworldly nonsense falls to the wayside. and as I said, deep down I’m just a scared young girl who wants someone to hold them tightly and just let me cry. until my eyes are raw. Until I can’t hold back no more.
But that won’t happen. especially seeing as I’m about six feet tall. yeah. It’s funny, really. But it would be nice. so very nice… forget elaborate therapy, mental re-framing, all of it. I just want a hug. I will continue this later.
Thanks for reading.