Category: Earth, Pink, Mothers, Love

I feel like I am trapped in a man’s body. Not my physical body, but like there is a giant man around me, a crusty man suit, which I must wear to deal with the outside world. It is so heavy. But I need to act like a man so people can understand me. Men do not understand women, in my experience. You must put everything in manguage so they can hear it. If you want to seem intelligent you must seem heavy & thick. Women can understand you regardless, but I must be a man around them as well, because women need men, and I feel responsible for taking care of them.

It would feel selfish not to be a man. Lift heavy logs, stroke egos, be boring & responsible. This is my moral programming. Above all- be crusty. My feminine self doesn’t even want to be nice to people- it would prefer people being nice to me. My man self doesn’t care how it is treated though. You can break giant logs over his head and it will not deter him from trying to care for you.

My feminine self does not understand the things people say. People seem to talk in puffy word clouds, with their words having no specific meaning. Men do this especially. They puff out words & the words have that intelligent aura, but when you try to boil them down, you cannot find anything specific they are saying at all! I don’t know how to process that.

Most of the concepts people throw around mean nothing to me- love, compassion, forgiveness, goodness, kindness, equality… what are these things? Once again, they feel like clouds, positively charged, commonly used to obscure something nasty. They evoke fear in me. When you see empty positivity, you can be certain its opposite- tangible negativity- is not far behind. Why do people blow these words around? Do people wake up in the morning thinking “Equality. Compassion. Heal the World?” Or are these concepts only used when others are listening?


I don’t understand books either, though I try. I open them to a random page, read the first sentence, and realize this will be unbearable. I can tolerate children’s books- so long as there are no morals involved- and also simple autobiographies- so long as they aren’t written by writers. I detest the puffy way writers write. I guess I have real issues regarding words.

Though I wish I could be real around people, I can’t. My real self is needy, weak, pathetic. Semi-retarded. The opposite of what anyone needs. I must be peoples Knight in Shining Armor. I must protect them and be the one to take bullets. I must lift heavy logs & then retreat back into the woods with a sporty whistle. The lesbian lumberjack. It is so lonely though. There is too much of me and too little of anyone else.

But also there is none of me and too much of everyone else.

Technically there are other people in my life but they feel… predictable. They rarely say or do anything I could not have thought of myself. I wish people were more surprising and could open doors to new realities. I wish books could do the same, but I can’t find these books.

Of course, I mostly connect with others in a mental fashion. In physical life, I bet people are surprising. Robbing banks, anal sexing their cousins…

But the mental realm tends towards dullness. It may be the average person just doesn’t have much to say beyond recirculating group mind concepts. Talk to a few people & it can feel as though you have talked to them all.

Perhaps emotional relationships are the answer. What does this mean though? I think the essence of emotion is to give of yourself. To take a risk. To make a sacrifice. There must be some transfer of bodily fluids, at least on a symbolic level, or relationships are pointless. Social media does not make this easy though. In many cases you have no idea who you are interacting with and just opening up a vein does not seem advised. In real life, exchanging fluids is now illegal since it spreads disease.

Nonetheless there is something about giving of oneself, in a meaningful way, that magically opens the door between people enabling you to see through their eyes and know things you could never have known. I am not sure if words alone can do this. I guess that is why people used to sacrifice animals to the Divine- spilling living fluid to open up a portal beyond what prayer can do.

I am glad we don’t sacrifice animals anymore, but still the principle applies. Blood, sweat, tears, something liquid must spill or else nothing truly new can ever break through into this world.