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 Post subject: Life on the Wayside
PostPosted: Mon April 26th, 9:59 am 
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Joined: Sun April 25th, 8:32 pm
Posts: 16
Location: Surrey, England // Monterey, CA // Sydney, Australia
Gender: Melini (Brunette)
Nationality: Kadorian
"Life on the Wayside"

by

K. R. King


There are reasons we become the people we ought to be. There are those of us who never see the truth, but there are others who perpetually strive to seek it out. In my own life, I know I have not ceased to evolve, but continue to transform and be transformed. Who I was ten years ago, who I am today and who I will be in another ten or fifteen years. These are three separate entities and while perhaps they share this or that in common, they are not the same, nor should they be.

It began the day she told me she knew. I was at a complete loss for words, as I had always tried to be careful. At the time, I wasn't ready for the whole world to know. Hell, I wasn't even ready for me to know. I had spent night after night in tearful fits, trying to convince myself that it wasn't true. I wasn't like them, one of them.

I'm not certain as to when I became familiar with them and who they were...I don't remember any sort of formal discussion; it always seemed to be an issue left by the wayside, among many, many others. I never truly paid much attention to it, I suppose. I was never warned against it, nor was I wholly exposed to its existence.

Reflecting on my childhood, I remember seeing scenes in film but I suppose I never realised that one day, I would be claimed by them. And yet, here I am. Of all the novels and plays, films and television series, the ones that have reached into each and every pore, every cell and molecule in my DNA are those which realise the existence of those like me. No, not LIKE me...but those who ARE me.

It still seems to be that myself and others ascribing themselves to the same "wayside lifestyle" are still invisible. I find myself enamoured by those period pieces reflecting characters who cannot come to manageable terms with such an identity.

And so I began a journey, partly of self-discovery and partly of psychological curiosity. I think that perhaps "self-discovery" is impossible, as we continue to undergo an infinite state of evolution and metamorphosis. Perhaps we are not even the same day to day. What I believe today may or may not be what I believe tomorrow, or the next. But there must be a core, a core beacon at the essence of the human soul which keeps it grounded, both physically and morally.

I recall vividly fancying my own sex from a fairly young age, and I remember the first time I ever received a girl of this variety, but nowhere in my memories is there a defining moment in which I proclaimed myself to be a sexual invert. I don't think I could have pinned such a label on myself at that age, but I went to secondary school and for a week or so I attached myself to that safety term, "bisexual," in order to keep the hounds at bay--particularly the ones on the inside.

Somewhere within myself, I knew the precarious truth of things but still I tried to talk myself out of it. I even went with a friend of mine who fell relentlessly in love with me for a time. I thought perhaps I had not found the right man, and if this one loved me the way he claimed to then certainly I had solved my dilemma and laid my inner demons to rest at last. Until he told me that he wanted to have children with me. Something about the whole affair just didn't sit right with me, but it wasn't just that I was too young to be contemplating toddlers running amok at my feet, it was an intrinsic aversion to sexual acts with a man that I knew would eventually doom our relationship and I could not face those consequences. In the end, I came out with the truth and broke his heart for good. Unkind ? Selfish, even ? Maybe so, but what would have become of us had I tried to force the attraction ? Infidelity leading to divorce ? I was terrified of that possibility and I knew that if it ever became the reality for us, I would never forgive myself for it. I was not going to be divorced. Ever. I would never wish that upon anyone.

It wasn't long after he stopped talking to me that I took a stance in defence of my sexual identity. It was also with the help of the people around me, some teachers I could name but won't because they need not be mentioned, that I decided I was no longer going to force myself to change or wish it away. I fully resigned myself to living the fullest life, not out of a sense of "look at me, look at me" pride but out of necessity, for the sake of my own sanity. Had I not come to terms with who I was, and who I am at this moment, I don't think I ever would have lived to finish high school. And those teachers ? Well, they know who they are, and the understand the dear space they occupy in my heart.

Now, as I look into myself, I come to realise that I have always felt a certain amount of displacement within the world as it is. I close my eyes in the darkness and envision a different reality, a different world. It is full of goodness, truth and beauty, and I am alive and thriving there. There is no masculine energy, not in the strictest sense of the term. There is onyl an intellectual, left-brained sort of thought in the one which does not prevail over the other. And yet, the other is as beautiful, though perhaps lofty and at times, histrionic. These are two sexes of the feminine spirit. And when I listen ardently to the voice of my most earnest self, I am ascribed to the former of the two.
But who will understand, where will I find the truest empathy ?

It is an intense feeling of catharsis as well as joy. A joy so tangible it is as though I could wrap myself in it like a blanket.
...to be continued...

_________________
"Jamais, c'est un petit mot...tres court. Tu verras."-La Première, Edwige Feuillère


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