Ever wanna hear one of my stories like you were there?
You gotta love the Danger Zone.
Yesterday, I did The Books. (OK, so there are no literal books, but the thing was done.)
The end result was…bad.
I do not have nearly enough money to cover all of the bills—and this includes an extremely late rent.
To survive the month, I need a minimum of $450 by the end of the month.
Yeah, it’s bad.
The job search isn’t going well for extra income and the current job’s hours aren’t improving. Basically, I need all the help I can get. If you can help, it’s appreciated. If you can’t, consider passing it along.
I deeply appreciate you taking the time to read this.
That’s how much money I need, fast.
The factory has us working two days a week and I have the phone, light, and internet bills due. The most urgent of these is the light bill: the heat is alarming and besides, if it goes off, they WILL evict.
If I’m lucky, the Housing Authority will reduce my rent on Friday. I will have to live with the blistering allergic reaction to the bugs, the aching rash covering my right arm, hand, and foot.… that could actually get scarier. More on it later, when my stomach isn’t nervously flipping inside out.
The entire situation is fucked.
If you can help? Or know someone who can? Send here: https://www.paypal.me/CyggieStardust
(as usual, disregard the deadname…)
I’m going to attempt to sleep. It’s second day of the work week…
It was when Sheik turned into Zelda in Ocarina of Time and I was still attracted.
Incidentally, that was when my cousins started calling me “gay.”
I didn’t know what gay meant then.
I was 13.
One day in grade school I was asked what I thought of boys. I answered honestly — and after I answered all the girls avoided me. I’d said that I liked girls better, and suddenly I was shunned by all.
I was 12.
A few years earlier I’d had a good friend. We shared the same interests. We got along well. But a rumor started. I didn’t know about it until I arrived for the scheduled hangout and was told that her folks didn’t want “that type of girl” hanging around. Then the door was closed in my face.
I was 7.
I was 20.
I’d just successfully confessed my feelings to my crush on campus. He’d shot me down. My friends took me out for sushi to make me feel better. A few weeks passed and I saw more of the guy that made me realize that I’d actually dodged a bullet — the guy was beautiful, but BOY was he problematic. While all this was going on, one of my other friends had something awesome happen to her — and in her soaring euphoria, she kissed ME before skipping off to her destination.
“Guys,” I said to my group as the realization finally dawned, chest a flutter, “I think I might be bisexual.”
I was 30.
I’m freaking out because my clothes are gendered. Male is wrong. Female is wrong. But if that’s the case then what am I? I panic and cancel my plans. I hit up the new LGBT sub on 4chan of all places — where I learn about nonbinary identities. The panic subsides a bit, and I research into the night. By morning I have a handle on it.
And a private identification tied to my blood that I reveal only to those who I trust.
For the first time in years, things are clicking.
I am 33.
Things have settled in. Some have evolved: as a nonbinary individual, I now identify more as pansexual because it’s outside the binary. Some have refined: my attraction type is demi-panromantic, if we’re splitting hairs.
I have accepted that I am settled firmly beneath the trans umbrella — something that I denied vehemently before. And I am growing as a person.
… well, that’s my Coming Out™ story.
Three in the godsdamn AM.
Current music 🎶 : Avenue of Shapes— Robin Guthrie and Harold Budd
I can’t sleep.
Today at the doctor’s office, I walked in looking for an answer to the narcolepsy and blood sugar episodes that have been growing more and more frequent and disruptive. When I described just a few of them, and exactly how they manifested — the ones that came on when I was feeling at my most wide awake especially bugged me — I saw a look of intense concern flash across my doctor’s face.
It’s never a good thing when your doctor loses his poker face.
He broke out his stethoscope then, and instructed me to do the deep breathing thing.
After this, he told me that this did not sound like narcolepsy OR blood sugar — though yes, my hypoglycemia is being a problematic little bitch. (My words.)
This is cardiac.
Everything between that and “You’ll need to call the hospital to arrange to pick up a monitor to wear for a few days” is a complete fucking blank. I’ve been in shock since 4:30.
I’m supposed to be up for work in two hours.
I can’t hear a damn thing out of my right ear. It’s like my entire head is a set of headphones with one side out.
I fucking hate when that happens. It makes me dizzy.
Now imagine if that’s YOUR HEAD.
In the morning I’m going to the clinic if this hasn’t cleared up. I need my ears.