This Wednesday I will be leaving for a final vacation before classes start. I’ll be heading up to Orlando and going to the Universal parks and Disney World parks with my parents. I love going on vacation alone with my parents because, as bad as it sounds, I love how they treat me like an only child when it’s just us three. They spoil me and give me the attention they’ve neglected me from past years, and I love it.

However, by the same token, I’m slightly apprehensive about going on vacation. When we go on water rides, I usually plan ahead and wear my bathing suit top under my shirt, and bring a back up bra, so that when I go on the rides, I take off my shirt to keep it dry, go on the rides, and then go to a bathroom and put on my dry clothes so that I can be comfortable the rest of the day.

Now that I’m on the sensor, I’m thinking twice about taking off my shirt in a crowded park. I’m wearing the sensor on my back now, I thought it would be safer there for when I go on roller coasters. I don’t want to put up with the stares. I know people will be looking at me weird, I know that only few, if any, people will understand and I don’t want to put up with me. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but like everything with my disease, it does.

Today I purposely didn’t wear my bathing suit to my baby cousin’s birthday party because I didn’t want the other people in the pool to stare at me. I hate how different people make me feel by not minding their business. It just sucks.

I hope (really, I know) that by the time Wednesday comes around, I will more or less be ready to take on people’s indiscretion and try to not let the stares get to me.

It’s my final week before going back to school. I really, really hope it’s a good one.


All I Really Wanted (Was to Not Be Scared)

Day 26- Your fears, in great detail

Goodness, where do I begin. 

I’m fearful that I will never be enough for anyone; more importantly, that I will never be enough for myself. This is probably my biggest fear. I basically center my days around trying to be a person whom everyone wants me to be, I rarely ever do anything for the sake of it being something I enjoy doing. I worry that I will never live up to anyone’s expectations and I will always fall short. 

I’m fearful that I will be diabetic for the rest of my life. I can’t imagine being 50 years old and looking for a finger or toe to prick, looking for an area of skin where I can inject and have the insulin actually be absorbed, not having any feeling whatsoever in my fingers or toes- I barely have any feeling in my fingertips as it is. It’s only going to get worse, and I’m scared of how much worse it will truly become.

I’m fearful that I will never find my perfect someone. First, I believed I was heterosexual because that’s what I was raised as. I was raised under the belief that men liked women and women liked men. Over the past couple of years, I realized that this wasn’t the case, at least not for me. I then believed, and still continue to believe, that I was homosexual. However; every now and then I realize that although I only ever see myself having any sexual encounters with another woman, (probably due to how traumatic my last relationship was, sexually), I would not mind being in a, per se, “romantic” relationship with a man. I consider myself to be an incredible open-minded person, and I refuse to not hold out a relationship with someone whom I feel a connection with simply because of their genitalia. I’m just terrified that it is because of this indecisiveness that I will never be able to settle down with someone, or that I will never find that person whom I feel comfortable committing the rest of my life to. I’m also terrified that I will never find someone who will commit their lives to me.

My biggest fear is, as with so many people, the future. The unknown intrigues me, and the future is a mystery; however, I wouldn’t mind knowing if I’m going to be a 75 year-old lesbian living with a bunch of cats, or if I’m going to be 75 living with my “other-half” having lived a life worth being proud of.

In My Teeth (Or On My Lips)

Day 16- Your first kiss, in great detail

It was quite slobbery and his lips were about three times the size of mine so it felt more like he was swallowing my lips than kissing them. He kept forcing his tongue out and at the time, I didn’t know how to really kiss with tongue so I kept trying to figure out why he was licking my lips before I realized it was that he was trying to reach my own tongue. There was drool everywhere when we finally stopped and it was just a completely unpleasant experience all around. It didn’t help that we decided to kiss in his backyard behind a tree and right when we pulled away from each other, a baby bulldog tore out of his neighbor’s backyard and bit me on my ankle. 

Pretty sure that was a clear sign that men were not my thing.

I’ve Got Friends…Not

It seems as though everyone has an easier time making friends than I do. Sitting in my history review sessions, my two pillars each go their separate ways with other groups of people whom they associate themselves with while I sit to the side by myself, minding my own business.

Since I started school, I’ve been the loner. Everyone would know each other and everyone would have friends, except for me. It seemed to be so effortless to others; talk, have lunch together, hang out on the weekends. It’s something that I simply can’t do. I don’t know how to. It takes so much energy, energy that I just don’t have.

I expect my friends to make other friends. I want them to. It just sucks that I can’t.

Pale Black Eye

This past Friday I attended my first concert- and it was amazing. 20 minutes in I was kicked in the back of the head by a fat crowd surfer which caused my head to smash into the railing in front of me (yes, I was in the front row, am I hardcore yet?), resulting in a minor cut and lots of bruising. Other than that, the night was indescribable.

The opening band, Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band, was a pleasant surprise for me. I hadn’t listened to them beforehand and had no idea what to expect, but was more than satisfied with their mellow rhythms and heartbreaking yet soothing lyrics. I also give Kevin kudos on the straggly ginger beard.

The next band, Balance and Composure, was when I got my black eye. I had listened to them a bit beforehand and considered them to be an OK band, and was once again pleasantly surprised by their performance. They also had an interesting thing going on with their backdrop, but that’s a story for another day.

Finally, Manchester Orchestra took to the stage and the urge to stroke Andy Hull’s beard was intense. It didn’t help that he was only five feet in front of me and close enough that when he’d look down to the crowd he’d look straight to me and my friends. That man is mighty talented, as is the rest of the band. They put on a performance, with Andy having even “written a song” especially for my venue. The hour and a half that Manchester was on the stage was the first time in quite a while where I let myself go and let myself be happy (happy, and not merely content).

I am now concert hungry and hope this will not be my last one for any lengthy period of time. I only pray that bands quit booking their performances on Tuesdays, which my strict parents refuse to let me attend since there is usually school the following day.

I still regret not being able to touch Andy’s beard.Image