nxiousxpsistence

[nxiousxpsistence]

let your sexuality out once in a while

see what it fancies

see what it looks like

see how it sees itself

sunshine is good for it all.

[nxiousxpsistence]

you're not the good flutter

the crossroads is real.

the drug-induced drawing of the three is no joke.

you can avoid responsibility and accountable decision-making and self-discretion and manifested destinies and incarnations (never reincarnations) and consequences for so long.

mine took about 40 years.

oh I'd rather be free

please let me be free

please go for me being free

opt for it

prefer it

let the other option chill you to your bones, give you an itch down there, and call ants to crawl on your skin.

please.

if not, what you'll love will be what's left of me when truth silences itself and I'll HATE you for it.

[nxiousxpsistence]

My desire for truth trumps your desire for overprotection

[nxiousxpsistence]

why do you allow me to remain in this fog

as you're terrified of me looking into what we have and what we are actively building to see IF WE STILL DO FIT

just bc you made your claim on me and want to keep me and want to beat me in this pretentious dance where they shoot horses

I don't want to be shot

I want to roam free

You think you're free rn you're not but you want to be less free and allow yourself less of the earthly pleasures I so adore.

I know I'm not free rn I am, in fact, relatively free and would like to be more free and allow myself more of the earthly pleasures I know will come my way...

Maybe it is bc it's all so paradoxical that we can't see eye to eye.

You appear to be after peace and quiet while you try to control every moment of your life but fail miserably, causing yourself more distress along the way.

I appear to be after drama and fun while I have let go of all control except for the small bit I have been entrusted with by the universe to control - which is practically miniscule - and anything I want to control I do control (except when I revolve around you at your exact pace, having been captured by your restless aura), allowing myself more comfort along the way.

This is what hurts me - I'm not trying to hurt you by letting you know what hurts me. You should know and babe there's never a good time to tell sb you have no future when the other person has already started cleaning an empty room in their house for oneself or dreaming about a happy cishet house with kids...

You've never complied with any boundary I have set with you.

NEVER.

I don't want to test it. I want you to open your eyes and see me for what I am. I am a fairy, that's a given, but boy do I have wild dreams and a heart rejoicing in newfound freedom...

I need to plan this out and even this necessity hurts me. I can't believe I had no time whatsoever these 2 weeks to tell you about myself, what I've been going through. It's a sad sad realisation that.

I'll talk to you on Sunday, once we get home.

I'll tell you that unless I can find alternative accommodation

[nxiousxpsistence]

hey a reminder that sexual intrusive thoughts are not sexual fantasies. sexual fantasies are about what you desire and sexual intrusive thoughts are about what scares you the most and your intrusive thoughts say a hell of a lot more about what you DONT want than about what you do. youre okay and youre safe and youre not whatever it is your intrusive thoughts want you to think you are. youre fine.

[nxiousxpsistence]

i think one of the most important things you learn about making connections with others is that a significant portion of the time people just do not know theyre doing what theyre doing

[nxiousxpsistence]

like your energy matches Maynard's and it's scary

[nxiousxpsistence]

Update.

It did happen. Must've been about a month and a half ago.

Those were the first days of a very fresh crush after years of loneliness and I can't pinpoint the exact moment, but I can see myself now.

My self image is still not clear but I actually like what I see.

For the first time in my life ever.

This is significant bc it didn't happen after losing some weight or working out. It happened when I felt love but trusted myself with my own heart for the first time - when I finally got the good news that I can love ppl and still be myself.

I can't believe I just didn't know how beautiful my face was. How pleasingly curvy my ass was. How perky my breasts were. I feel ever more free now that I can look at a mirror for more than 30 seconds and I like what I see.

Did I tell u how much I loved my new therapist? :)

I don’t know what I look like.

It amazes me how people in [redacted] in general.

I’d been telling my therapists that I didn’t have a concept in my mind as to the accurate representation of my body for years before I learned about it. My hands and feet get bigger sometimes, my upper arms feel larger sometimes. I can never picture myself short and I am actually short. I don’t know if I look as fat as I am and I don’t know exactly how fat I am - it changes. I either feel like a tall thin person or a tall fat person - never somewhere in between. I feel like I have never seen my body represented anywhere and even when I see myself walking around in videos, it just doesn’t stick.

I had a physical disconnect with my body too - I thought it was the norm. It was as if my body had been hanging below my neck and were not visible to me at all. I didn’t look at my body parts - except for a few that I really liked. I was the one moving them, but I had no idea about how physically present they were.

I still don’t know how I feel about my large hips, small ankles, and ever-present belly. I’ve been hiding them for as long as I can remember and I’ve just watched a tiktok urging me to let my belly out for at least for an hour a day - what? No?!

It’s not because it is ugly, it’s because I really don’t know what it looks like.

It’s been better since I accepted that I am a fat NB and since I stopped adding judgment to how I see my body. And also since I had to start saving money on what I ate and feeding myself well became a bigger concern than keeping my weight at a certain number. I mean I still have only a vague idea of how big or small I actually am, but whatever. At least, I am fine with my tits now.

Still, my friends in [redacted] need to know and their therapists need to tell them that their laser focus on weight/appearance might just be a way to deal with dysmorphia; they may just be desperately looking for a foolproof way of drawing the borders of their mental image of how they look and somehow be content with it. I know I was.

And knowing the [redacted] society, somehow believing that thinness can and must exist in a curvy body and everyone must be a certain height, but never shorter than anyone else, drawing that image may never bring the satisfaction one might strive for. I had too many friends who were afraid of having children just because their spouse may leave them afterwards, finding them “not attractive enough”. I lost 14 kilos once working out and dieting and I spent not a single moment thinking that I was “thin”, even after reaching my goal weight. And even then people would say “Oh you’ve lost TOO much weight, stop there!”.

I have been a high femme for years, but could never fool anyone into seeing me as the “real woman” I was trying and failing to be, because it just wasn’t me. I was left with perpetual dissatisfaction with how I represented myself, with no other useful outcome than impressing other women with my walks in high heels. Low cut dresses were never comfortable either.

So, yeah, the solution (what is the problem again?) might just be connecting with your body as it is now, seeing it as it is, rather than putting it off until it has become an “acceptable” version of itself (acceptable for whom?). We must reclaim our autonomy and our right to represent ourselves however we see fit.

I’m not there yet, either, and my new challenge is to find an accurate representation of who I am in a style that I’m comfortable with. London is a great place to start, but wait, what is my favourite colour again?

[nxiousxpsistence]

starting a new company, Autistic Auditors, where we send blunt autistic people to check up on things like companies to stand there and be like “actually that thing the CEO said made no sense, elaborate” and pushing them to actually explain their dodgy corporate language that avoids accountability and reliability. Just really grind them down with repeated “why” and “but what does that mean” and writing down the answers in clear and obvious language.

IDK I’m just sick of hearing how Business Bros talk and how many people are suckers for it. I want blunt people standing there going “hey, that guy didn’t actually SAY anything, he just strung together a bunch of nonsense corporate words to make you think ‘ooo profit’ but there’s nothing substantial here”

We would do the same to politicians.

[nxiousxpsistence]

this must be the second adolescence and I need a mum to yell at me

I still can't look at his face anywhere. Thinking about him gives me this fuzzy lovely warm feeling and I smile. Every fucking time.

[nxiousxpsistence]

emotional transmutation appears cruel to some, I wish to find ppl who don't see it that way, and I hope you find ppl who just don't do it

[redacted],

I wanted to write to you. I feel like we left it half way. Sorry if I'm intruding.

I can see now how I left things unsaid in that bubbly, tipsy, ballsy, and hyper state. I was drunk on Pride and, towards the end, pretty high. I was in "protecting my castle" mode and this knight failed to let you know how much you meant (ehm mean) to me.

Your face is still the first thing that I picture in my mind after I wake up from stress-laden sleep. I still find comfort and solace that you exist and I had something of a shot with you.

I miss you. It's there, I can't deny it. All those soppy songs didn't come out of nowhere. I find myself wanting to text you. I'm sad, too. I sing songs of yearning and good byes at the top of my lungs as I dance in the living room with sweat running down my cheeks instead of tears.

I told you about how whatever we had and whatever we shared gave me new life and it's still there for me to cherish. This new me I've uncovered came out partially because she wanted to be seen by you and look good for you. The warmth and softness that made a home in me became a pillow for my weary head on sleepless nights.

I hope my presence brought you some good things, too. I hope we did good by each other even in this "situationship" and where it's landed.

That day, you mentioned how disappointed you were and I couldn't share the sentiment then; I knew it was there but didn't come to the surface. I am disappointed, of course I am, but not in you or myself. I am disappointed that this flower I'd been nursing for you, covering it in lace, more flowers, and some sweet scents in anticipation of the first time we'd share that "touch" - whatever it might be - just couldn't blossom.

I don't regret much in life but I did regret to inform myself that I had to keep my feelings in check. I had to be brutally honest about it on a conscious level as my "toxic" traits had already been crying out rather loudly about how they didn't match what we could have. What I considered normal was toxic to you and vice versa. So it was more about an adult responsibility to protect myself - and although it's not my place to say - to protect you than me backing off from something good on a whim.

I liked you. I still like you. But the yearning bit - however long it may last - is where it should end.

The first day I met you, I wrote: "I love myself and my love for you more than I love you." It may sound quite selfish but I know full well that if I don't feel loved, if I feel I don't respect my own choices, and if my love for you gets tainted by whatever reason, I will not be able to keep a happy presence in any relationship, which, in turn, will make you unhappy.

It's damage control - the last exit before the bridge that'd end up in harm reduction, which I know full well is beyond both of our current capabilities to take on. I'd like you to be carefree, peaceful, happy, and content with whatever you are going through and my romantic or sexual presence there would get in the way of that.

It does make me sad. I'd been alone for too long to still be yearning for someone and not having them with me, but hey, we're old and mature, right?

I'll now talk to my feelings, think about new ways to find joy in things, and get some rest (and sing soppy songs). Then, if we're on the same page, I really do hope we can manage to go forward with and build a good friendship. That's why I'm glad we had that chat in the end, things felt normal, non-awkward. The only thing I can't be for you is your wing man, but I guess that goes without saying :)

You deserve to be deliriously happy. Your heart deserves cuddles. You deserve somebody whom you'll fall in love with exactly as you'd described it to me. You deserve somebody who'll come up with more answers than questions. I hope you find that and I can help you along the way and we can share the drunk gossip as we go on adventures.

Please take good care of yourself.

Thank you.

💕

[nxiousxpsistence]

I've got unrequited love & lust on one side,

compassion on the other,

satisfaction killed the other man.

My attraction is as intricate as my desire.

[nxiousxpsistence]

I'll of course consider myself a test subject, the most interesting test subject there is!

I am developing catching breaking nurturing? feelings for you.

I don't know if I become stranger every day just so you can see me

or if you're nothing but a mirage I'd like to hold dear

as the possibility of some real aromantic and asexual loving.

I don't know if I'm uncovering the layers to reach my pure love for you

or I've dreamt this love into being just so I have something to cuddle every night,

that's why I was able to keep my distance - I'm in love with you, as a free person, as you, as purely whatever you've come so far with, whatever you've left behind,

even now am I writing this as the fruit of my loins, my dear lovely beautiful pitiful loins that have lusted after you for years - probably ever since you'd said the first edgy thing that got me wet.

Are you real?

Am I?

It is scary but never as scary as when I was not aware of how I felt and how that affected me.

My LOC is internal but has connections with you.

I am so sorry that I've fallen in love with you and I really congratulate myself for not letting me in on the secret all these years -

otherwise you wouldn't love me and nor I would you.

I wasn't lying when I said it'd be the dream (to have a shot with you) and I curse myself for this newfound agency in me which practically requires me to let you know as it'd be lying otherwise.

And I'm here lying

FUCK YOU JUST TEXTED ME

AND YOU TALKED ABOUT FILM CHARACTERS WHO ARE LAB RATS FOR DRAMATIC INTENTS AND PURPOSES.

JUST LIKE ME.

and I feel like I'm betraying you by not telling you about the dripping dripping of liquefied human flesh into the bed soiling it in ways you will be able to acknowledge only when cursed and maybe not even then

but what if it is the artist in me writing for me the biggest legend of love and sacrifice and responsibility and authority and freedom the fucking promised land just so I can get over my crush faster?

I am OK with not knowing, but I can't expect them to be.

The lines blurring is exactly why I need to talk to you.

I want to make myself known.

Would you perhaps consider being the person who knows me?

Can I ask you that without taking that painstakingly honest and spiky crown of thorns, the heavy memento of colonial times, smelly, too, and putting it on your head, as the knowledge of the fire burning here in this part of the world will mean you'll not be the same.

Either way, any way, you'll not be the same.

We'll not be the same.

So should I not be sure of what I feel first?

Xyr love feels too close for comfort - for xem AND for me.

I know I'll be able to handle him, but xem, not so sure. My love burns. Some ppl need water.

But I'd very much like to be seen now.

Would you perhaps want to be the person who sees it?

[nxiousxpsistence]

You know why I'm around so many spirits?

My end goal is, well, to be cursed.

That'd be the ultimate joyride.

[nxiousxpsistence]

I know where I come from and I know where it will end.

(2022)

The words in my head formulate to me a wonderfully intricate TRUTH looking me right between the brows.

I know where I come from.

The womb I climbed out of some years ago is the exact hole I would like to crawl back into.

To be gone forever this time. The burden I’ve born I will hand over to Sisyphus (My drag king name will be SYSSI PUSS). This is the last time I hang around in bars after a full day of cutting trees.

The body is weak. The pull is too strong.

- tenthousand days in the fire is long enough -

I forgot the face of my father and broken my promise I’d given to the first wink I released to the unknown that we call the future yet 0 isn’t smaller than 1.

You’re the product of whatever has come before you and will dissolve in whatever will come after.

If you will.

ROSE + wink + kış bahçesi + forget the notes / SING

I’ve kept your place; go then (there are other worlds than this).

All the while p/cherish the sight of blood you so love to wrap yourself in 

Just to have a good look of how beautiful you are in the mirror.

Dicks and balls and all.

I broke my promise. My turn is over now. The legacy I will bring to whatever will come out of me will be eternally tainted and I AM NOT THAT VALUABLE/EFFICIENT/COST-EFFECTIVE to run. I’m a computer that you end up dumping somewhere.

And that’s beautiful.

One night, I found myself lying in an extremely comfortable bed, made to feel all the safer for the presence of two well-wishing male-presenting friends nearby. The chemicals thawing in my veins, erupting here and there like into trembling little orgasms / imploding into pits of anxious hell / leaking puss just to crave some again.

i.e. I was too excited to sleep. 

She and he were laughing outside. They had lost themselves in enviable stupor, having managed to get as drunk as they would get with booze as with whatever else. Dreaming their pretty dreams, most probably made to feel all the safer for the presence of another well-wishing male-presenting friend and their best friend and her manit nearby.

She and he were having the most beautiful laugh my ears had the pleasure to hear. They were bonding. I was in my bed. MADE TO FEEL ALL THE SAFER. The veins have always been my friends, tolerating whatever shit I’ve put in them, I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but I’m way past 27, aren’t I?

So yeah, I was too excited to sleep.

The shit was good apparently. The much anticipated eruptions took us to yet another world this time - the orgasms became a volcano of one huge ball of energy travelling through me. Finding the places that haven’t been touched recently. The places that need some tender loving care.

Stimming can be transformative.

My hips, my eyes, the third eye I’ve painted at the back of my neck, my feet, (she and he) (and they) through the laughter, the bed, the 23-degree weather, the open window, the scent of a woman sweating for all the right reasons planting itself into the very fibre of the linen that MADE ME FEEL ALL THE SAFER. 

It was everywhere. People think so highly of the light, but some of us aren’t built that way. 

The energy that finds me is there; light you need to know dark when you see it. all truths are half truths.

The singularity of it all - I’m sure of it yet I can’t say.

All my truths are half truths.

My beautifully painted yet amateurish third eye sometimes speaks to me.

You know it’s friendly veins, people I love laughing, good shit, MADE TO FEEL ALL THE SAFER, soft warm linen, balls of energy (well), eruptions turn into volcanoes, the all visits me, and I give up on my earthly existence, and closing remarks.

I made a deal that day. I hope it is with who I think it is.

I asked for agency.

To do whatever I wanted to do.

And I said, “But I’m done with this existence”.

I forgave all. I love all. My turbulations are futile. I shall submit.

I forego whatever has been given / whatever has been promised.

If I have the agency to choose what I believe in, I shall believe this.

I signed the dotted line - I’ve got the agency.

If I hadn’t, I would’ve not fallen into all the pits I’ve invited myself to fall into.

If I hadn’t a famous writer wouldn’t have drowned 16 of his characters in the same well and call it his.

If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have tried and tested myriad ways of getting into the ways of this earth. It make no sense now than it did when I was 5.

I give up. As this is what I choose.

But if I hadn’t, my future being would’ve created a new reality for itself. There is only one reality. And I now want to be a part of it.

And I am the product of my age; so the ugly ways you have chosen to invest in for your salvation are mere brushes with yourselves, the intention having been undersigned only in a half-assed contract which many a judge will read a few times 5 minutes before hearings.

I shall make it mine.

If I can choose whatever I want to/can believe in, this shall be it.

1 and 1 and 1 is 3.

[nxiousxpsistence]

recognition means nothing

I thought we all knew they'll never recognise our presence on this earth. Apparently we don't.

Who are you to recognise me? To have an opinion that actually matters on my existence - apart from the vote you've cast on the ballot - which is being NURTURED by that horrible person whom we're all ashamed to have created such stolen fantasies.

We knew she was a thief???

Still. You'll vote whatever you vote however much I scream my eyes out.

I love my eyes and they're fine. JUST LEAVE ME BE.

You have your personal space, I have mine.

Just stay away. Just let me do whatever I'd like to do with my body and deal with your own issues.

If you don't, you'll hear us scream.

No scream, however, is an invitation for you to weigh in?

Just shut up and take it.

Just shut up and take it.

We've taken enough.

[nxiousxpsistence]

RUN YOU FUC*ING CLEVER BOY AND FUC?ING REMEMBER!!!

stop there-

right there as you dive into the flames you've promised yourself countless times never to fall in

yet you're now dying to be sizzling inside that

huge ball of anger

and sex

and touch

and all that beautiful smells you'd come to smell the last couple of days

the hell you've literally begged your own ego to be shipped into

a willing grim fandango

acting

as if you weren't one.

Action requires will and not the other way around.

Imagine the little curious boy peeking into the future. Drawing maps of the same old country the borders of which have never -NEVER- been stable.

Longing for that black uniform with the nice thing around the neck. The one your mother toiled every Sunday to make flat.

You've imagined this.

You've imagined a hurt poet who likes to keep themselves close to the point of no return all the while keeping the options open.

To be or not to be

This is the question.

2 + 2 = 5.

You dreamt of a lonely cowboy trying to navigate the depths of the jungle with their bare hands and funny horse.

You're lonely.

You're way too deep.

It is a fucking jungle.

You knew it was.

Yet the lie you like to keep alive is so

amazingly delicious

every second you feel that throb in that little vein that is the heralder of great news for your aging body

THE FUCKING THROB ANAIS NIN FELT EVERY OTHER NIGHT AS SHE NAVIGATED HER OWN PERSONALITIES???

THE FUCKING THROB SHE QUENCHED WHENEVER SHE FELT LIKE IT.

I WANT TO FUCK HER. I DONT WANT TO BE HER. I'M FUCKING JUNE.

JUNE.-

I'm Roland. I want to fuck the princess.

Jake is the boy I aborted.

Susannah the lovely pus in me flowing whichever direction they see fit.

Breaking her own legs along the way if necessary-

Just to be cared for by a junkie, who's fun all around.

Yes, the nurse who loved me is where I left her.

And the nurse who loved you is gone.

Will requires action and not the other way around.

The mere fact that you're here, writing this, through my hands, as if I can feel the soul you kinda enjoy keeping locked up in your little fantasies

while you're a 45-year-old with a martyr complex.

You still think you need to die before you surrender.

It's the other way around.

She saw this and the glimmer in her eyes caught you somewhere you never expected it to. For me it's the legs. Still.

The first fuck that felt magical.

My trauma makes it magical.

And your supposed panacea.

Your dick is supposed to give me the feeling of

being abused

being unwanted

being fulfilled

This is what I think love is.

Because this is the only close attention I got.

The closest that can be.

I was important. I'm not.

And will never be if God can help me.

But as I wait for my own fucking self to regroup before putting the gear forward, I can easily fantasise about it?