daisy-blooms

[daisy-blooms]

Google docs make me want to kill myself.

I've been trying to write a script for a comic this entire semester. I'm supposed to have a whole volume done by the end of it. So far? I've written about four to five pages. It's a story about the last human in the world. She's approached by a god of death, and told she has one chance. Her people froze her in cryostasis, and preserved her until the end of time. The second singularity is forming, an ultra-massive black hole. Eventually, all will be swallowed up by it. Her role in the universe is to rediscover the lost arts of pseudo-alchemy and induce a premature big-bang. This would launch the creation of a second universe. After this, she is meant to clone all manner of life she preserved. By doing this, she will accomplish her goal: to defeat time, the final enemy of humanity. On this adventure she'll encounter alien races built for survival with little to no stimulation. Most species in this story are likened to the animals at the deepest depths of our oceans.

I'm calling the story The Darkest Age. Because that's what it is. As for aesthetic, it's future-medieval. Similar to Hyper Light Drifter, Dune, or Poptropica's Astro-Knights Island. I'm using a lot of corny-ass naming conventions to imply story ideas. The main character is a woman named Joan Dark (Joan of Arc). There's also a lot of religious commentary with a cult that worships the coming end of the universe (alluding to the rapture and general Christianity). The god she meets is not a god, but a creature called an Elemiri (Mirror of El). All of the universe's I write have a being called a primal at the center of them. This universe is a part of Universe 'B', which is overseen by Gro-El. "Gro" is her family of thought's name (Primals group based on vibe, not by kin). The Elemiri is called the Traveler, he basically looks like a homeless kid with a mask. His role in our universe is to oversee life and make sure all species that come to be get a fair chance at survival. Which is why he is inclined to assist Joan. In the makeshift Joan of Arc allegory the Traveler would be the archangel Michael. So they aren't really gods, more so just a species of very powerful and ancient aliens.

I have been writing this story for months now, and I feel like any time I open the google doc for it I'm either going to explode or hit 'ctrl+a', followed by 'del'. I absolutely hate feeling this way. I feel useless, like a waste of space. I can't bring myself to do anything for any of my classes because honestly, I do not care anymore. The whole world could go to hell for all I care. It all sucks, it's all useless, and I'm just a cog in that machine. I'm just a depressed person with a keyboard that hasn't been kicked to the curb yet. It's annoying as hell. I hate feeling like this. All I want in life is to have meaning again. But I just cannot convince myself that anything I do is worth doing. So at the end of the day, why do anything at all? Why live when dying is so easy? Why die when living is so rare? It's a split in opinion. It's all bullshit and so is everything. I am very clearly not well. But I've become so good at masking it that I keep forgetting. I push myself into escapism. I push myself into the mind of people I create and write their names into a google doc. If that's not what being a writer is, I don't know what is.

I have no purpose in life outside of simply wanting to. That is not a good reason to keep living. But I have to live, if not for myself now, for myself when I was a kid. All she would have wanted was to see me write these names and tell there stories. I don't think I have a choice. But maybe I do have a purpose. Maybe writing silly works of fiction to help people escape this shitty reality we were forced into is my point.

This post got a little away from what I wanted to say initially. I am not going to erase what I wrote. For the same reason that I draw with pen. Sometimes we shouldn't be able to take back what we say. Some things need to be said. Maybe not for the purpose of being heard. But instead maybe just to say something. I'm going to take my daily vitamin now. Then, I'm going to get a notebook. If I can't stand looking at a google doc, I'll write this fucking story with a pen. Because I don't want to delete it. I want to say it, and I want it to be heard. Thank you for reading this, if you did. I'm going to keep trying.

#queer #transgender #transfemme #artist #writer #college #mental health #the long con #escapism

[daisy-blooms]

An attempt was made.

I have been trying to write a post for the past hour now. I have tried writing about how I haven't felt alive in my body in quite some time. Then I tried to write about how I have a hard time genuinely enjoying any activity that I started doing a week ago. After that I tried to talk about one of my classes where I'm making a comic book as my semester's assignment. Finally, I tried to write about becoming burnt out on writing and art as an artist, and how it feels like making a single drawing or paragraph of writing is more difficult for me than running a 5K. I cannot seem to finish any of them, which is ironic, because my inability to finish projects I start, despite caring about them deeply, is also something I tried to write about. I am beginning to hate art. But I've already put three years into a degree for it. Sunk cost fallacy, yada yada, yada yah. However, I don't hate art or writing. I love making things, I just need to be patient with myself. I'm not exactly in a situation where I can think about art or writing as my main focus. My main point of focus right now is to make enough money to survive until I can start transitioning the moment that I move out. Just wanted to let the world know that I tried!

#queer #transgender #transfemme #artist #writer #college #mental health #the long con #escapism

[daisy-blooms]

Daisy, and the name that I won't say.

Hi, this is my introduction I guess. I've never really used tumblr before, but I've always heard that the people here are unhinged. It was probably worse before they banned pornography. Anyways, I'm Daisy, y'all. I'm a semi-closeted trans woman currently attending a private Christian university in Tennessee. I live with my homophobic/transphobic/xenophobic/slightly racist parents under a different name that won't be said. I'm at a point in my life where I'm really trying to think hard about what it is I actually want to do.

Right now I am studying as an art major and English minor. But that's not super important to me. The only reason I'm attending college is because somehow I am getting paid to do it. My father works at the school I go to, so I get my tuition wavered. I have a couple scholarships as well, so since I live at home, all of that money goes straight to me. I'm also working two part-time jobs while I'm not studying or procrastinating. Basically, I'm doing fine financially, for now at least. I'm trying to take advantage of every opportunity in life to make money at the moment. My goal is to save up enough to move across the country to some state that's more friendly to people like me once I graduate.

In order to do that, I've had to do some pretty gross stuff. My attending college, and more than likely my housing situation, is entirely reliant upon the fact that I uphold my role as my parents youngest child, the son my mom gave birth to twenty (twenty-one in September) years ago. I had a therapist at one point, but that quickly became too expensive for a legal-dependent young college student without any personal health insurance. I have lied to my family and friends for more than two decades now. Again, as that name that I won't say. It eats away at a girl. Especially when it's over something so trivial as skirts and heels versus cargo shorts and sneakers.

I am at the precipice of the rest of my life. I am only one year away from being able to do what I have planned for about eleven years now. I feel like a lot of queer people can imagine the feelings going on in my head: elation, relief, fear, frustration and freedom. It's a lot for someone who never learned how to manage them. I have successfully turned every stress-relieving hobby that helps me relax into a way to make money or a waste of my time.

I do not know why I am here. I do not know why I am typing a Tumblr post right now. But it has helped me think about my situation and where I am at in life. It all boils down to surviving one more year while being called a name that I won't say. If I can do that... the only name that will matter will be the one that I picked a while back from a field of transgender flowers: Daisy.

Yours honestly, Daisy S.

#queer #transgender #transfemme #artist #writer #college #mental health #the long con #escapism