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Journal Entry – March 17, 2018

I used to write when I was inspired by love: coded messages for he who shall not be named, songs for Titus, poetry for Yoda, short stories for M, letters for Relyt, now I don’t know how to say what I want to tell you.  I’ve used up my metaphors. I’m no longer an angelfish or a damsel in distress.  I don’t think I’ll ever physically look good enough to stand in a photograph beside you, not like I really want.  I don’t even compare to your perfection, but with you, I feel the most normal I’ve ever felt in my life, the most natural.  I don’t feel like a freak.  I feel supported and loved.

I struggle every single day with how I look.  I’m binding tighter than is healthy.  I fight to keep a little bass in my voice and blush every time it slips.  I workout my chest and arms, attempting to decrease the size of one and increase the size of the other.  I style my hair and clothes to “gender norms”, even though their is nothing about me that conforms to anything right now.  I see how people see you now, and I’m excited for you and jealous at the same time.  I try not beat myself up for *Will Smith gestures at self* THIS, but that’s a losing battle.

You tell me I’m perfect, but it’s hard to believe… You don’t lie, but… THERE’S THE PROBLEM: I’m trying to reconcile what my brain is telling me with what you’re telling me… It’s clearly not working… I’m sorry… I’m trying… I’m trying to be good enough for you, and as long as you put up with my awkward, blushing uncomfortableness, eventually, I’ll be good enough…

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Journal Entry – March 10, 2018 And… I’m Back

Back to wondering why… Why this body? Why this glamour? Why these nightmares? Why the abandonment? Why the loneliness? How is this good for anyone? You shatter someone enough times, and it becomes a waiting game: when are they finally going to pick up a shard and kill everything around them.

He isolated himself, and his loneliness shattered him. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he turned on his own brother. He was able to hide his true self from Anislanzir for gods sake; how can I expect him to open up to me? I was just a pretty face with just low enough self esteem that I’d be flattered if anyone showed me affection, and he took advantage of that… Until I gained the confidence of a warrior…

It was then that he balked and tried scrambling in the pieces of his own psyche for a weapon. I thought I was approaching with open arms and bared my scarred soul, but he took exception to that and saw it as a challenge.

I suffer nightly from memories no one should have, yet it is his betrayal that hurts the most. I have been tortured, raped, and worse, yet it is his rejection of my true form that kills me every day.

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Journal Entry – March 2, 2018

This morning, right now, I’m laying next to the man we have both dated for extended periods of time. I’m watching him as he sleeps, and I wonder if you ever did the same. If you ever held him in your arms, and prayed you didn’t break him, because in spite of his muscled strength and your knowledge of just how capable he is, he just looks so frail in that one moment when his guard is down just enough. It’s not completely down. You can see that every time his ear twitches at the slightest sound. Did you ever want to wrap him in your arms and magically make everything right, so that he didn’t have to be scared in his own home? Or were you always plotting? I watch his heartbeat at his throat, listen to it with my head against his chest; I’m fascinated by this dream made real. Every fantasy wrapped up in a living package that genuinely loves me, and I’m baffled by how you could give this up. I know I’m not worth anyone’s love, but to have had his love and thrown that very rare and precious thing away… You’re a special kind of stupid…

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Journal Entry – February 22, 2018 Call Me Ylla

You just told me you finished this book; so that may be why this story popped into my head as a parallel to the travesty that has become all our lives.

“Tell me!” he demanded.  “You can’t keep secrets from me!”  His face was dark and rigid as he stood over her.

“I’ve never seen you this way,” she replied, half shocked, half entertained.  “All that happened was this Nathaniel York person told me – well, he told me that he’d take me away into his ship, into the sky with him, and take me back to his planet with him.  It’s really quite ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, is it!” he almost screamed.  “You should have heard yourself, fawning on him, talking to him, singing with him, oh gods, all night; you should have heard yourself!”

– The Martian Chronicles, February 2030: Ylla, Ray Bradbury

Was it jealousy, Yll?  Were you jealous of our very own Nathaniel York?  Was that why you removed the mask?  Would you have ever revealed who you really were without the imposition of a new poly dynamic?

Even now, you continue to manipulate the situation.  Trying to isolate me and demonize me to the few people I could run to if shit goes sideways here, again.

I swore I would never put myself in this position again, but here I am.  My escape route is M, and I don’t know which one of you fuckers managed to orchestrate that, but… *slow clap*

You have backed me into a corner, isolated me.  I have Rhys/Angel, you, M, he who shall not be named, or my parents… Those are my options…

If this doesn’t work out, or if shit goes sideways, I don’t have a back-up plan… My plans B, C, D, and E all involve me running back to my abusers…

“My [boy]friend became my worst enemy, my worst enemy became my best friend, and my best friend became my [boy]friend.”

– Sky High

My life has literally become a ridiculous movie trope, and you, the one person I trusted explicitly, the one who stood by my side through everything, have turned into someone – no, someTHING – I don’t recognize.

You were going to try to kill Rhys, and if I hadn’t have been there, it would have resulted in you being gutted by Hunny, and Rhys shooting you in the face… You don’t realize that, do you?  Instead of hiding inside Sanctuary, waiting for you to try to break down the hatches, I’d be helping your parents plan a funeral, comforting your brother on his loss, yet deep down, knowing that it would ultimately be my fault.

Yes, my fault… My fault for not seeing that you were just as narcissistic and sociopathic as M.  My fault for not seeing that you were just as much of a pathological, manipulative liar.  My fault for falling for yet another asshole who is “so different from anyone else I’ve ever dated”, except you weren’t.  You were exactly the same… I do have a type, apparently… Either I’m a magnet for narcissistic sociopaths or I turn people into them.  Which ever is the case, I’m done… I will have relationships, I may even adopt kids, but I will never marry again.  That’s a level of trust I can’t allow myself to have because I’ve proven to myself that I have horrible judgement in that area.  To an extent, I trust Rhys and Angel, but after everything, I’m even looking at them sideways.  At least I know they will never lie to me.

You have real issues, Yll.  Your emotions turn on a dime.  You need help.  Help I cannot give.  No one should be able to switch from homicidal rage to complete breakdown in less time than it takes to blink.  Your current detachment is disconcerting too.  We’re just waiting.  Waiting to see what is going to happen.  Are you going to react like Yll or Relyt?  Are you going to flip shit and try to break into our home or are you going to break down sobbing, begging me to come back over FaceBook Messenger?

I’m still trying to figure out who and what I am… I can’t spend my life trying to figure you out too… I need stability and maturity in my life, and at least I can provide the second one for myself.

Tell me… What are you going to do?  I need you to stop keeping us on edge.  Let all of us get closure, please… Our worlds are counting on it…

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Journal Entry – February 15, 2018 Perception is Reality

I honestly have no idea what to say to you right now…

Your intentions don’t matter.  Perception is reality.  If people perceive you the wrong way, it doesn’t matter what your intentions are.

You have made it clear that you understand that we do not think like you.  You have made it clear that you understand when someone else does something stupid knowing that it will set us off.  Yet you refuse to recognize your own mistakes…

I’m giving you one last chance.  I want to build a life with you, but I refuse to willingly become a victim again.  I refuse to allow immaturity to flourish and drag me into another living hell.

When truth is blurred by lies and misinformation, perception becomes reality and all is lost.

Civilians just don’t understand.  There are no excuses sufficient enough.  Admit your mistake, and strive to do better.  Actions ALWAYS speak louder than words.  Show me you’re making the changes necessary, or I will show you the door.

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Journal Entry – March 20, 2017

My friends,

This time last year I had no idea what was in store. I hadn’t met Snow or Rhys or Relyt. I hadn’t even begun considering my transition, and I wasn’t even ready to ask for the help I needed.

I realized today that asking for help is a big problem for me. Because of how I was raised, having to ask makes me feel ashamed and emasculated, but I realize now that it shouldn’t be the case.

I’m so glad I asked for Rhys’ help when I did, although it did put too much stress in all of our lives at the time. I doubt I would still be alive if I hadn’t. I’m so glad Relyt insists on helping me so often, because I would be an overwhelmed nutcase if he didn’t, and I’m so grateful that he is by my side.

My life has changed so much in this last year, and I am impressed that I dealt so well with it. Even those who haven’t seen me in recent years have commented on how much happier I am, and those who see me every day can’t help gushing about how much more confident I am in myself.

I am finally ready to say that I am not a victim anymore. I may still need to process everything, and I may occasionally trigger or have flashbacks. Yet I am not bound by those chains of the past. I am a SURVIVOR;

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Journal Entry – March 18, 2017

That panic-induced feeling of sheer terror when your abuser tells you that he is allowed to attend public events you’re at, and when you remind him that he can’t lay a hand on you, he replies with,

I very rarely did lay a hand on you and never in public.

That doesn’t make what you did excusable, and it definitely doesn’t mean you never abused me!

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Journal Entry – March 17, 2017

Relyt was right.

My body is finally forcing me to process all the mess that has been my life for the last couple months now. No amount of distraction can prevent it any longer, and I am drowning.

I have reached a depth of depression that I have not felt in years. I have only felt like this two other times in my life, and I honestly don’t know how I made it through.

The first was back in 2009. I was 16, and at the time, I felt like my life was worthless. I couldn’t sleep at all, and though my weight never fluctuated, I would cycle between eating absolutely nothing and eating everything in sight. I had no motivation to do any homework, but at least I maintained perfect scores on my tests, otherwise my parents might have cared. I would live off my adrenaline for weeks until my body physically couldn’t function anymore. Then I’d crash for 24 hours. I told a “friend” how I was feeling, and she told me to try cutting because it worked for her. I sat in the shower that night with a razor blade against my wrist, but I just couldn’t get up the courage. Heathen watched from the corner as I cried, then slowly stepped forward to take the blade from me. Then he introduced me to D/s. He knew exactly how to play off my emotions to get me to follow his orders, and I never questioned him. But within a week, I was back to that brink. When I knew I was alone, I went to the medicine cabinet in our kitchen and grabbed all of the pain medications my dad never finished after his back surgery, and I swallowed every single one. There were approximately fifty pills. Then I laid down and slept. I was trapped in a night terror from Friday night at 7 pm until Sunday morning at 6 am. The pills never even made me sick, and no one even noticed they were gone. I sat up in the rocking chair by our living room window until time to get ready for church, and at church, I told that same “friend” what I had done. She told me that I was lying, and that I just wanted attention. Then she told her parents who told my parents, and when my parents asked me about it, it was all a joke. Like “So I heard the craziest thing! C told her mom and dad that you tried to overdose on pills to commit suicide!” and I confessed. I told them the truth, and they said I was lying because I never even got sick. I don’t remember how or when I started feeling a little better. I was still depressed just not as much.

In 2011, I met HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. Everything started out sweet, but when it turned sour, that’s when I fell into that bottomless pit of depression again. I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to accomplish in my life. My teachers accused me of being anorexic or bolimic, but I wasn’t either. I was back in that cycle of not eating then eating everything. My estrogen had really hit me, and I had my first period, and that’s when my emotions flew out of control. I was always crying. I burst into tears in the middle of classes for no reason, and on more than one occasion, had to run to the bathroom to pull myself together. The insomnia hit me again, but not as hard. I slept about once every two weeks, but that was only because I cried myself to sleep because I was crying so hard that I literally exhausted myself. I fell behind on homework, but maintained good grades. I had no motivation. I spent all my free time in my safe place. I considered suicide, but I knew that if I failed again, HE would make things so much worse. It wasn’t until HE left me that I was able to get my life back under control.

I hope I’ll survive this time. My only consolation is that I have support this time.