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idon'tevenknow

Hnn. What is it that makes it there? What is it that makes it me? What is it that keeps me from them and them from me and this from there and that? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck take it away out not here. Who is this that there? Who are you them me? But it's not, is it, it's not that, who you are, who we are, we are we are we are listen to me it's not fair who are you I want to know.

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When I Was A Boy (Possible Triggers; Somewhat Explicit)

When I was 13 or so, I pretty regularly courted men thirty or forty years my senior. It was thrilling, and fun, and, most importantly to me, made me feel alive in a time where I felt like I was dying inside. They weren't great men, they weren't great lovers, and they certainly weren't particularly intelligent. But hey, when you're 13 and your definition of love is defined by getting fucked, it's not a bad life to get treated at a lovely restaurant or given gifts by a man more than twice your age. And honestly? I still look fondly on some of them.

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T S Z, H S G

My life is standing still while I try to reconcile my past with my present. Who am I? I cannot be defined by what happened to me- but how do I come to terms with it? How can I? The more I try to confront it and face it, the more it hurts. I know it gets worse before it gets better, and I have to push through- but when the pain starts to get unbearable, it's damned easy to forget that.

It's all so strange, sometimes. Sometimes I look around and I feel like everything around me is just some vast illusion. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else is real. More often, I wonder if I am real.

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A quick update

It's worse.

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a love story

so anyway more and more i just wanna get high and get fucked. gimme some weed and a ton of condoms and a ton of horny guys with big uncut cocks and I'll suck them and fuck them and be a fucking slave, just get me my fucking weed and i'll do whatever the fuck you want because it's the only fucking cure i have for this fucking shit. just die fucking die go away get away get away get out of my fucking head get the fuck out get out get out get out get out fucking die leave me the fuck alone shut the fuck up fuck fuck fuck

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Wish I were here

So.

It's getting worse, not better. It's getting harder, not easier. The screaming gets worse and worse and I keep having these feelings that feel so foreign to me. Sometimes it's hard to remember that nobody else can hear it. Sometimes I can hardly hear myself speak over it. I've been good at not raising my voice to hear over it, but that's difficult. It's like trying to talk over music that is just too loud. But instead of music, it's more like I hear hell.

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you say beauty is within us? (trigger warning)

So.

I'm tired. Tired as fuck. I've got a fucking migraine, and it won't go away. The screams are loud and I've been feeling a lovely urge to kill someone. That last one doesn't feel like me, but whatever. I keep fantasizing about various activities like slitting someone's throat, smashing someone's head with a sledgehammer, flaying someone alive... that sort of thing.

The more I try to face my memory head on, the more misery and hate I feel. When I think about it all, it's like the gates that keep all the rage start to weaken. It's not nice.

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So yeah. Horny.

So.

Life is okay. It's been loud in my head, but then, it usually is. I'm a little bit tired but that's because I've been doing some work. My dog is happy and healthy and I love him. My boyfriend is healthy and usually happy and I love him more than I love my dog.

I've been talking more to the cute translady, and hopefully we'll get to meet sometime soon. It'll be nice to have somebody facefuck me. I am.... REALLY horny. Especially after the Boy tied me up, pushed me over the bathroom counter, whipped me, fucked me with a vibrator, then kicked me in the side when I fell over.

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Hello!

I am very smart and very pretty and I should not leave myself logged in on my boyfriend's computer, especially when he is six hours away and can get up to mischief without me seeing :)

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an actual journal entry that involves no pretentious poetry posing huzzaaaaah

Dear Diary:

Last night I got high as hell. It felt very, very good, and quieted the screams down nicely. They're back now that I'm sober, of course, but I had a beautifully quiet night, with nary a nightmare to be found. Speaking of screams, ZeeBoy wants me to name them (collectively, I suppose) Rachel. I suppose Rachel is the name Legion took when they transitioned?

HERE NOW BOIS SEE HERE. WE CAN'T GO WHALING BECAUSE THE WHALES ALL ASCENDED TO HEAVEN! I VOTE WE BUSY OURSELVES WITH THE MONOLITHIC COUNTRY OF AFRICA. HEAR HEAR!

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my homeland

the homeland?
i know it well
the wastes take up most of it
and the fissures
split the lands
into canyons and cliffs

in my homeland once i pushed a man
into the fissures
i wanted his man and so
i decided to remove him
i learned to regret
i loved him
he was a friend
and he died by my hand

the homeland is not real
the homeland is not fantasy
the homeland is broken
the homeland is twisted

i cannot stay for long in my homeland
for even the pleasant moments
are soon perverted
and become dark

in my homeland i have seen children forced to dance
by a shadow

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a tiny journal once more in poemish style with an actual poem why do i write these? god knows good night

scalp scalp
it's a nice night
the pall over my mind
is almost gone
i feel happy

I am with my love
one more night
and then one sleep
shall be without
his parents are here
he does not like that
he does not like
to have to be someone else
he does not like
to be a gender he is not

i love him
I want him to be happy
nothing feels better
than the warmth of his body
against my back as I write
His warmth feels special
different
unlike the other warmth
of other men
it has a feeling
a smell? maybe that's the word
i don't know
but it is unique
beautiful

a quiet mouth

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thing

time time time time
never enough time
never enough time

crazy
am I crazy?

what is it in my head
what is it in my head
why am I so crazy
what is it in my head
am i crazy
don't go crazy
I don't wanna be crazy

crazy crazy crazy
loud loud loud loud
so loud so loud
i hear it i hear it
it's so loud
it's not fair
it won't go away
so loud
shut up shut up shut up
loud loud loud loud loud

i don't wanna go crazy
why am I so broken
broken
I don't know how to heal
I'm so scared
I'm so broken

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black upon black

Black
upon black
upon black

it is not easy to see your face
and not recognize its contours
it is not easy to see your body
and feel that
it belongs to another.

Red
upon red
upon black

the lines are wrong
the lines are false
this is not my body
this cannot be my body
it was not
meant to be this way.

damn this cock
damn these disgusting
glands
that poison my blood
that poison my body
cause this falsehood
this wrong.

were there a god I would curse him
for the fate
he assigned to me:

a body that is wrong
a body that is sick
a body that is disgusting

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a short poem about a happy bunny-rabbit

Anger!
A bitter taste to rival the cloying earnestness of angst

YE WHO HARM
may you rot

YE WHO WOUND
may you fester

YE WHO BRUTALIZE THE INNOCENT
may you find yourself
the recipient of
your own horrors.

i am no prophet
nor am I God
i'm just a girl
who wants to have something to eat.

but is it unreasonable
to request from my fellows
they act with decency

is it unimaginable that
laughter should be genuine?
happiness be the
default?

is it in the stars that humanity
must be cruel?
i do not believe so

OH BUT HOW I HATE YOU

HOW I LOATHE YOU

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