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My journal is fourteen years old. It is the oldest thing I have.
I haven't been so silent in all these years as I have been lately. It's just been hard to think of what to say about myself as things swirl around. I'm happy, I'm sad. It changes every single day. I guess that's what going through puberty again will do to you.
Injecting myself is something horrible, still. It doesn't hurt, not really. But it scares the hell out of me every time and my hands shake something awful. I listened to myself very carefully in the car this morning. It is small and subtle, but I can hear my voice starting to shift. It cracked the other day when I was singing along to a Counting Crows song and took me aback.
Basically I want to fuck or fight all the time, and that's kind of exhausting. Something is happening though.
I've written more in the past few months than I have in the previous five years. I found something and fell backwards into it and I'm just going. I'm lucky enough to have met some people who give me valuable, helpful criticism in the process. It is making me think harder about what I do with those words. I might start doing something original next year, if only to make my friends read it. What I'm writing now is fanfic for a very niche, specific thing and most people aren't going to be into it. I'm proud of myself though and I keep telling myself that when I feel the self hatred on the edge of my mind. I've never written anything that got such a reaction and that's a hell of a thing. People have made fanart, sent me the most lovely notes and comments - it is kind of a dream come true.
I didn't think I would be here for this. But I go on and it is harder to kill me than expected.
Sometime next year, I'll change my name. I think I might have settled on it for good. I'm going to give it awhile to think about it just to be sure because it is a fucking nightmare to change all the things in your life. But after years of not knowing for certain I feel good about it.
Things with my father's estate remain unsettled. Probably because my lawyer is an idiot. I'm so frustrated. Tomorrow might be the day for a furious phone call.
I have an eight foot tall Christmas tree decorated in colored lights next to my computer, and a two foot tall tree in white lights on the kitchen table. Christmas feels a little subdued this year but that's okay. I need something quiet.
I miss the people who died. I miss my friends far away.
Today a guy in the grocery store saluted and called me Captain Rogers since I was wearing my Captain America shirt. It is kind of hilarious, because I feel a bit like pre-serum Steve right now. But maybe next year I'll be something else.
I haven't been so silent in all these years as I have been lately. It's just been hard to think of what to say about myself as things swirl around. I'm happy, I'm sad. It changes every single day. I guess that's what going through puberty again will do to you.
Injecting myself is something horrible, still. It doesn't hurt, not really. But it scares the hell out of me every time and my hands shake something awful. I listened to myself very carefully in the car this morning. It is small and subtle, but I can hear my voice starting to shift. It cracked the other day when I was singing along to a Counting Crows song and took me aback.
Basically I want to fuck or fight all the time, and that's kind of exhausting. Something is happening though.
I've written more in the past few months than I have in the previous five years. I found something and fell backwards into it and I'm just going. I'm lucky enough to have met some people who give me valuable, helpful criticism in the process. It is making me think harder about what I do with those words. I might start doing something original next year, if only to make my friends read it. What I'm writing now is fanfic for a very niche, specific thing and most people aren't going to be into it. I'm proud of myself though and I keep telling myself that when I feel the self hatred on the edge of my mind. I've never written anything that got such a reaction and that's a hell of a thing. People have made fanart, sent me the most lovely notes and comments - it is kind of a dream come true.
I didn't think I would be here for this. But I go on and it is harder to kill me than expected.
Sometime next year, I'll change my name. I think I might have settled on it for good. I'm going to give it awhile to think about it just to be sure because it is a fucking nightmare to change all the things in your life. But after years of not knowing for certain I feel good about it.
Things with my father's estate remain unsettled. Probably because my lawyer is an idiot. I'm so frustrated. Tomorrow might be the day for a furious phone call.
I have an eight foot tall Christmas tree decorated in colored lights next to my computer, and a two foot tall tree in white lights on the kitchen table. Christmas feels a little subdued this year but that's okay. I need something quiet.
I miss the people who died. I miss my friends far away.
Today a guy in the grocery store saluted and called me Captain Rogers since I was wearing my Captain America shirt. It is kind of hilarious, because I feel a bit like pre-serum Steve right now. But maybe next year I'll be something else.