danny sexblog

In a LOT of ways (like, in every way imaginable) I feel like I’m trapped in a cage. I am held prisoner to the standard I hold myself to. The bars of my cage are gilded with … I don’t know. How I perceive other people perceiving me? I don’t know. Something pitiful like that. It’s just all so strange.

I don’t know what I want to do anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t really accept my feelings as legitimate; let alone accept them as mine, when they’re so indistinct and so fleeting. It’s hard to put into words. Ship of Theseus ass Jewess. I’ve been warped beyond my recognition. I have been made into an active participant in said warping. I don’t really know anything anymore: what I want, who I am, and (most horrifically) what the fuck to DO about any of it.

I need to change something, but I don’t know what. I don’t know what more I could stand. Things are changing, I think. Hopefully. Probably? Against my will. Always against my will.