This was my life early in transition.
This was where I learned more and more about what I could be.
I never had the chance to get to know people face to face when I was ignoring myself and when I first came here it felt freeing, it felt spacious, I was confident that something good would happen. So I came out.
There was praise. People talked me up. I was a she, I was a her, I was a girl. I wanted to explore myself. I felt free. I felt free for other people to use.
Early on I started getting praise. I don’t remember when it happened.
I remember being talked to about polyamory and something in my chest started making sense for the first time. I didn’t know how to learn more and I was always vulnerable - I had to raise myself so of course I grew up sheltered by my own self hatred.
People started to praise me more when I made myself available. I wasn’t just pretty, now I was sexy. Now I was desirable. Now I had attention in ways I’d never had it ever before. Attention for the first time, and I didn’t understand how to work with it. I just let it happen. There were things people wanted, things I had, and they wanted more.
It just grew into something fragile.
I knew in a matter of seconds if I ever lost this, I wouldn’t have anybody ever again. They wanted my body, and my words, and if I ever decided nobody could have it, I’d lose the attention that was all new to me. So I grew up with it, ever since I came out. It was just validation, right? Just validation between women. Just validation between trans women. They were telling me I was cute, so it was okay, right? I just let it happen. Give me attention.
Tell me to use you, but you’re just using me.
And it’s ok. I wanted attention. That made it ok.
I got to grow with it. I was trained into it. It’s the only thing that made me feel any validation, if only for a little bit. I needed it from new people - it felt good from new people. New people would come up and tell me that they wanted my body. It was a really good way to cope with the attention.
You came to me, not me to you. I waited for people. I liked being told what to do. “Use Me” is a command, isn’t it? I wanted to be told what to do. I wanted to make sure everything would last. I wanted attention.
I let people come to me and tell me what they wanted because I didn’t want to feel lonely - I didn’t know how to not feel lonely. Sometimes I still forget how to not be lonely. I guess it never really worked out to any means, wanting attention was just a shitty bandaid. I ignored things about myself again for the sake of being good at what people wanted.
Nobody else here talks about growing up. Nobody else here talks about changing, really. Everybody here wants to say the next important thing, but everybody just says the same things over and over. A circular doorway of reminders and statements that only support a status quo, nobody here ever really says anything challenging. It became “disagree and youll get taken out”
Everybody talks about accepting different kinds of people, but nobody ever talked about anything that really mattered. Nobody on tumblr knew how to treat a woman with bipolar. I’m living proof of that. I was made into a monster for it. It’s literally all so typical.
I don’t think I’m wrong just because I’m the only person I know that thinks about tumblr like this. I know I’ve been used because I let myself be used, constatnly. I never once thought about myself out of habit. It became an addiction and it was the only way that really felt like people were giving me attention I’d never had before, and I’m ok with admitting that. I didn’t have attention growing up. I barely had a family. I was passed around a lot, things weren’t permanent, people that did a better job raising me than others passed away. I lived through that and took care of myself instead, all leading up to me running away from home, and this period of my life starting.
Nobody once ever really pointed out that I was hurting myself. I don’t think anybody knows that I was because nobody else really knows how to look at an abusive system and really say anything important about it other than what they were told to say or learned to parrot. I can’t say too much about abusive systems and relationships because I fall for them all the time, so I guess I haven’t learned my lesson yet. I leave and come back, I leave and come back.
Just like my worst and most controlling relationship.
I try to talk about sex sometimes and feelings of gratification between me and really close friends and my girlfriends and boyfriend because I want to reclaim the idea of sex. It’s always been used to control me, from physical relationships to my time on tumblr. And “control” isn’t something that always comes from a conscious or individual place - tumblr absolutely has a status quo for actions when it comes to trans women. And it’s upheld aggresively.
I was always scared talking about sex because it wasn’t serving the purpose. I wasn’t being used, I wasn’t acting out of availability, I wasn’t giving somebody something to be horny about, and people just straight up decided that me attempting to own my own body in any way was suspicious. I don’t understand how nobody sees how hypocritical it all is, or maybe you do and you’re just too afraid to point it out.
Do you think about it too? You keep your mouth shut out of fear? I think about it all the time. Every single day. It’s on my mind every single day. Are you afraid to disagree?
A lot of people are afraid to disagree. You don’t have the platform to voice yourself because ignorance doesn’t really exist and if you step out of line - or look like you did - you can be removed. Permanently.
It’s all about coming out on top, you know that too, right? Somebody loses and somebody wins. That’s all anybody ever really thinks about once they set their mind to it. “I’m here and you’re not.”
You never had the right to say what you said. I know things about you that betray how you think about stuff. I know what you want to be, I know that you want to control people. You’re the same as abusive partners I’d had in the past. You even admitted it in plain sight, and nobody noticed. That’s how you hide. In plain sight, in reputation. You talked about me behind my back for months. I never knew you hated me because you never talked to me. Never. Never. I was scared of you, but you got the first word in. I never saw you as somebody with conviction - I viewed you like an authority figure. I viewed you like a police officer. You have absolutely no idea how to talk to people and you don’t serve the individuals here you serve the system. That’s why things worked out like they did. Anybody who attempted to say anything that didn’t agree was made to shut up with a variety of buzzwords and abused vulnerability.
People took what happened and decided to use it to fuel their own ends.
I had somebody tell me I was abusive because I didn’t visit her and fuck her when she was in town.
I had people tell me I stole money after I told them I was homeless and might need it to survive - told to me from the comfort of their parents’ home. Told to me by somebody who obsessed over one of my girlfriends and referred to her as just a pussy. As something to fuck.
I had people tell me I never apologized to them, when I know I did in the moment. People who had no idea how to treat me.
I was used as ammunition so people could lift themselves out of the holes they dug themselves into. I was used for people to get ahead. I felt like a sacrifice.
I have people treating me like I’m a villain. Like it’s permanent. It’s been half a year, and that’s proof to me that nobody really thinks change is possible.
And that’s why things will never change here.
That’s why this isn’t my life anymore.
Because I just let it happen.
I hope I did some good for people. I know I even helped people who went on to hate me forever. I won’t let anybody deny how hard I tried.
There will be no way to contact me after I post this,
If you’re reading this, I’m already gone.
I won’t delete my blog - there are things I need to stay here - but I’m gone.
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