Quotes added on Wednesday, October 12 2016

Yes, I have fun with them and tolerate them.
I don’t necessarily like them or dislike them;
but I feel like I don’t belong with them.
You can be happy in a place you don’t belong,
you can be welcomed into a place you don’t belong.
But that feeling of belongingness isn’t a sense everyone has.
And for those that do have it, it’s like a gut feeling.
There’s no literal or physical or verbal signs all the time.
It’s just there; the feeling. It’s very uneasy.
So I avoid them.
But by doing so miss the ones I truly want. 
i used to take so long thinking about what clothes i wanted to wear for the day, but now the process is so much quicker
nothing has changed about it, except that ive gotten used to it
the polls between the left and right side of my brain,
how do i feel today? about my gender? about my weight? shape?
how to i want to portray myself? am i tough? weak?
am i confident enough to wear tight jeans?
or am i homesick...and wear loose jeans?
lastly do i have open scars? will the red bleed through?
do i want it to bleed through? where am i going today, do i want them to notice and ask if i'm okay?
are they almost healed? will not ruining a pair of jeans be just enough motivation for me to not pick at it?

these are the questions i have grown used to. it's like answering the questions at the hospital. the same ones, over...and over...and over...
you grow used to automatically checking boxes, knowing exactly where everything is on the symptoms sheet...
hardly even throwing a second glance, but still never missing the mark. this is life in my head, and whether i like it or not,
the automatic questionnaire will run, and my brain will answer. i dont think about it too much consciously, but when i do, it scares me.
i automatically reach for the jeans that my brain has decided on...and now it's time to pick a shirt.
the shirt...it is mostly dependent on the jeans...
is it a man tee? sleeveless? girl cut, close fit?
what are the words on the shirt? are they words of sadness, hope, desperation?
are they my reflections on the past or thoughts for the future? or is it a silent cry...for the present?
would i rather hide behind the humour? or display the emotion on my sleeve?
where am i going...who am i seeing...questions, questions, questions...
it's all up to my brain, i cant decide anymore...constantly at war.

my decisions are never about fashion.
I know you’ll never love me but maybe you’ll stay for awhile.
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