That Fucking Blood

I know you people don't see me often, but whatever. I got a life. Impressed? So yeah. I'm sorry, I don't want to be mad at you. I just want to be mad at someone. Do you know who's stupid? My father. He's kinda a dickhead. And as I'm way too gay, I'm allergic to dickheads. Is me+father=good then true? Didn't think so either.

Sometimes my father just gets on my nerve. He can be so arrogant, and I bet he believes he's just the good the world needs. Mind you, I know how stupid this sounds like. Everybody hates their parents sometimes. But when you go angry to bed for the fourth time this week, there's something wrong. It can't be right at least. He does deserve my harsh words to come.

OK, what is really wrong with him? Well, he believes he's this superb environmentally friendly person. Which he's not. The only reason he can find for actually dividing the trash into paper, plastic, food and waste is because of his wife, who for some reason actually cares. Maybe she just wants to be a "good" person. But whatever. My stepmother is cool enough, at least sometimes. She's not worth caring that much about, at least not right now. Anyways, why does my father even try to care about the environment? Except that his wife might think he's more sexy while throwing the paper into the paper basket, he's got no reason. Maybe he wants to please me? Nope. Not everything is about me, you know.

Another thing that makes my father stupid, is how he interacts with his (step-)children. He wants to be oh so good, say positive things to them and be nice. He sounds so fake. Believe me, he won't exactly win an Oscar in the nearest future. Not even Juilliard could make him good. He's untruthful, and don't even care whether he says something that makes sense or not. It's just... wrong. Sorry.

What I wish the most that my father would do better, is to not pick the wrong fights. He can talk half an hour with my little brother because he (understandably enough) doesn't wish to kill himself in the form of school. My little brother is amazing, I tell you that. But of course he shouldn't do nothing but school when he's only in 8th grade! He is 13 for God's sake! But my father still doesn't think my brother is doing good enough. He is. He doesn't even know it himself, but he sure is.

When a parent is arguing about a chocolate or a school assignment, instead of caring about what really is the matter, that is a problem. That's what my father does. It just makes him look stupid. Even I believe he's stupid now.

My father makes me hate him. It's not my fault. And I hate my "blood connection" to him. Even though he's my biological father, doesn't mean that he acts like a father should. And while I've got way too much to do, and can't be home to take care of my brother so much, I feel scared. Scared for what my baby brother fears, what makes him sad in life. I know that he also has a problem with dad, in some way or another. If I could only be around him as much as I wish, and look after him. My brother is my love. All I fear is him not being OK.

Maybe I'm scared of my father. Or maybe I just hate him. One or the other. I want to tell him I'm gay. But he doesn't deserve it. He really doesn't deserve it, at all. He's just stupid. Fuck him.

Do I need to talk to somebody again?

As Yesterday Cut, Tomorrow Sings

"The times they are a-changing" Bob Dylan sings. Well, the times really are changing for me. But no, it's not the time that's changing, it's me. The last three months have made me change a lot. If some of my friends say I've changed dramatically, I believe them. But I'm happy with that.

Right now I got this worst headache ever. I bet this is like a hangover, though I've never drunk any alcohol ever. Maybe I'm getting ill. What do I know. I just finished my written math exam. My hope and belief is that it went OK, or rather good. Now I'm boring.

The situation with my parents is awkward at the moment. I'm OK with my mother, she's survivable, and actually a pretty good person. My father on the other hand, is getting on my nerves. And when somebody is getting on my nerves, I get pissed off. And I act like an idiot. That'll just be for now.

I'm thinking about therapy again. It's not like we ever finished it off and got to the end of it, good or bad. We just had to separate because of him quitting his job. But that's so. Still, I wish I could actually get down to it and really understand myself. I have a lot of questions, and a lot of confusion. But at the time being, without seeing anyone about it, I can't get over it.

Now as I've told my mother that I talked to this psychologist for half a year, I can possibly ask her if I feel the need to talk to somebody again. But I don't know if I've got "big enough" problems. We can't call us ill for anything. No, I don't know.

Sorry this isn't much of a smart-ass post or anything, but I needed to add something here. Just what I feel. To be honest, this blog has been filled with a whole lot of shit from it's beginning. But that's so. I'm the chief. You can't do anything about it, as long as you don't hack me. Go on, it's not that much to find.


How To Save A Life - The Fray

Not my kind of music, but it reflects my life at the moment. I might've lost a friend. Might've. I don't know what will come. But I guess it was because I've changed. I could change back, but that's not the person I want to be. Today's me is way closer to my heart than the me I've been acting like the past couple of years.

Tomorrow will show.

I'm Coming Out

Diana Ross - I'm Coming Out


Yeah, that's probably the gayest song ever made. But I like it. Now, what happened this Wednesday:

My mother was driving me to my gymnastics practice, and while sitting in the car she just went:
– You've got some well thought out thoughts sometimes.
– Well, thanks... That might be because I've been going to a psychologist for the last half a year, I said.
– Oh... Well, I'm glad I got to know.
And then I got off for gymnastics...

So, after gymnastics practice my mother picked me up and drove me home. We didn't talk all "Oh my God! You're talking to a psychologist!!!" We got home, and in the kitchen we started talking a bit more.

– The reason I've been seeing a psychologist is because I'm a lesbian, I said.
– Oh... Really?
– Yeah...
And then there was this bad scary and awkward silence. I looked at her, and she smiled so weird.
– What?! I asked her
– No, it's nothing. Pause. – I'd really never guessed that...
So I assured her I am, and we started talking about our weird family. And then it was over.

I'm done! I'm freakin' done with it! I came out to my mother!

Yeah, this is the reason why I'm on a current high right now. But I'm done! It's weird, but it's real.

BJ Thomas - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

"Mom...? We Need To Talk."

OK, now it's finally coming. I'm considering telling my mother I'm gay.

To be honest, I never thought I'd say so. Or at least not yet. I'm a freakin' 15! I know one soul doing so before that age. Seriously?

Because I am really thinking about it — to come out to her. When my grandparents were in town for my brother's birthday a week ago, I listened to a conversation between my mother and grandfather. He's writing on (another) book, this time a "real" novel for adults. Filled with (way too much) sex, God, Christianity, condemnation, and homosexuality. Or the condemnation of gays. What a shocking move from him...

What actually is a little shocking to me is that my mother actually pointed out that, and of a sudden they two were discussing homosexuality for over an hour. Pure entertainment that should've been promoted in Big Brother, but that's so. Still, my mother argued pro homosexuals! Wow... That kind of made me speechless. Not that I can't see her as an ally (because I can, though I know a thing or two about her in advance nevertheless), but I've never really listened to her saying stuff like that. Weird, I'm totally aware.

So... This event has been what's made me to think about actually come out to her. The psychologist (I'm trying not to be "anti adults", which means actually listening to him (he really deserves it)) told me to try to establish an OK relationship with my parents, and then especially with my mother. Because I'm way too good at stripping down my emotions and be plastic (not popular bitch in high school plastic). So I'm supposed to allow them to get to know me, at least a little.

"Mom, I've been going to a psychologist the last half a year. And I'm gay. Now, I've accomplished to let you get to know me. I'm awesome." That's something that could easily come out of my mouth. If I decide to tell her. Chances? Am I a bitch if I say that I'll do it to take advantage of the stereotypes so she'll let me go to New York City Pride this summer?

We all wish things were easier than they are. My dream? That when I popped out of my mother's vagina at the age of zero, you could see a mark in my forehead saying "queer". But that didn't happen, and now I'll have to learn how to deal with that. Take the risk of coming out. It's not like she'll kick me out or anything. Or...

If I, hypothetically, come out to her tomorrow, should I go for a girly blouse or take the butch out in the open? Just asking...

Saving Letters

Dear mom and dad,

I wish life was easy. And I wish you understood me as me.

As from a young age I've had my problems. I've tend to be very angry at times, arguing and unhappy. As well as tearing on my own life, I've for sure made others' worse than it should. My life has been a roller coaster filled with some happiness and a lot of sadness. Didn't you see that?

I can remember that I once was very angry at school, and one day I refused to attend class after lunch break. Something came over me, I'm sure, even though I have no idea what it was. But I was so angry! I hit my teacher who tried to get me inside, I started screaming, and my eyes flooded with tears. I was broken, for whatever reason. After that episode the teacher called back home to tell you. You asked me, I didn't answer.

Sometimes, when I was in primary, I started to cry for no reason, usually in class. Maybe we were listening to some music to relax after a long day filled with Math, Norwegian and Science. Or it might've been me sitting by myself doing handcraft, thinking about everything and nothing. I just burst out in tears. What it was, I can't tell you. Because I have no idea. Or, at least it's just vague guesses.

What I know is that this sadness still got me. Somehow it won't leave an inch. Why am I like this?

There was this episode in third grade. The nurse was at the school to check how we were doing, measuring height and weight and stuff. Then we talked a little each with her. As a small school, this was what they did. Or... I guess so. I had to talk with her twice. This was right after your divorce, but I was feeling kinda OK. Still, I had to talk with the nurse twice. To this day I can't remember anything from our conversations, else than that I was crying real bad. I have no idea why - crying is the only thing I can remember.

This sadness hasn't managed to leave me to this date. It's not as present as it was when I was younger, but it sure is here today too. I want it to leave!

Today I'm a different person than one and a half year ago. I'm not as stupid and naive, and I've become a more real person. But I'm still hiding, and I'm still sad. The last year I've learned a lot about myself. I know stuff about myself I kind of hoped you would notice, and kind of hoped you'd never see. I'm not telling you that right now, and right direct, but I want to know this: Didn't you see?

I've been depressed. I've been too close to suicide. I've been hating myself so bad. Some of it is gone now, some of it isn't. How couldn't you see that? Your psychiatrists for God's sake! And you didn't see the signs. Maybe you wouldn't see. I don't know. And no, it's not over yet. I've got quite a way to go before I'm really real and myself. But I've made it so far, so why shouldn't I manage to walk the last bit without you?

I've been alone. I am alone. Let's hope the rest of the road will be easier to find and easier to follow. What I've learned? Life isn't easy. Maybe it's not supposed to be easy either. But you're making things so much harder when you're without someone - anyone - by your side.

You don't see what's right in front of you, right?

---


If life was as easy as writing a letter. And yes, this is me being fully honest. Not 97% honest, as to this blog, not 85% honest, as to the psychologist. But a 100 percent honest. Follow my lead?

My life is a lie. Deal with it.

Feminine Enough

Am I feminine enough? Clearly my mother doesn't think so. In the car yesterday, she started talking about me and my closet. She wants me to dress up in a pink dress every single day, and care about heels. I like pink (as long as it's not overly sweet and candyish), and I, believe it or not, do wear clothes of the color sometimes. Not every single day, but often enough. And heels... I care! Girls in heels are sexy. But it's not necessary to put my feet in some.

I quote, "You should dress more feminine. It's not that you don't have money, right? Because then it's just to ask. But you could definitely take advantage of some heels and a nice dress." Can I call her in for Child Services? Maybe not, but who says something like that to their child?

Seriously, she didn't mind before. And trust me, I haven't changed into a big butch last half a year. No, I've just been me. As honest as I can let myself around my friends and family. But no, I haven't dressed as a pinup lately (or ever). Still, I'm not that butch. I'm actually quite femme. So why does she at a sudden care?

And what's really the problem not being super-feminine? It's not like Armageddon will come right away if I don't wear my white dress with pink polka dots for school tomorrow. Or, maybe... I think we got a new conspiracy made!

I am who I want to be. Feminine as hell, under-the-hat butch, or androgynous as the moon.