miseryinnaomi

I want to be far, far away from all of this

I want to have the privilege to run away and toss all of gods money to the wind

I cant

As a transgender man,

I miss being a girl

I know who I am with confidence, but

But

I cant talk to girls the same way .I thought the guys were lying when they said eventually you change

I dont really care if they do or don’t see me as a man

An ice cream sandwhich my mom made for me

Ingredients;

- Costco assorted cookies

- Vanilla ice cream

It hurts so bad to be loved (?) Is this love (?) Ive walked here time and time again, And each time I am alone

Is it my fault? Do I do it to myself?

But she couldn’t ever understand what tears me apart , What eats me alive . And Im scared to receive another Ice Cream sandwhich from her. I don’t want her to try to love me , Since I know she doesn’t know how

And I cant keep trying to teach her

So she makes me an ice cream sandwhich

Because God have mercy I guess she does care

She does love, she does grieve what she has lost

She wants to tear herself apart, She wants to eat herself alive

Why, why why why, Cant she show me that. Why wont she tell me that , When Im begging her to show me she loves . That she grieves.

Girls turning into lazy old ladies

Girls going to bootcamp

Girls becoming coastguards

Girls swimming naked like mermaids in the throws of a river or lake

Girls taking care of their boyfriends like babies

Girls taking care of their babies like angels

Like demons, or monsters

Girls can’t help themselves

Girls gone wild

Girls taking care of everyone at the party

Gently, before being carried to bed by Death

Yeah U have to try to relate to rhem all

I hope I don’t because it would likely be on the blanket of I think bob Marley next to a lion which Ive had for a while and already thrown up on once

so I hide that stain under my relatively uncomfortable bed, along with my unfinished projects and such

I really hope I don’t throw up again

Because it feels like tossing my guts out on what supports my room , its kind of the main focus in fact , everyone points it out when they enter

Its been with me since I was a child and comfortable ever since

It feeds my room the way I neglect my stomach

I might be a piece of shit

Do I get the right of the valley girl if I don’t pee like her?

Do I get the right of the glorious woman if when i dance I don’t move my stiff limbs like her?

Can I be a lady If Im sick and tired? What If Im nauseous and exhausted?

If I sweat in dirty little creases and want dirty little treatments, simply put, not for you

Am I valley girl if I don’t shit like her?

If I don’t groan like her when she wakes up from sleep?

If my hair doesn’t fall on my shoulders like her?

If my music doesn’t tickle the right frequency like hers? like her voice and mine

I stink , I think

I cant be like her

& got the best head of my life lowk

Nails (taste)

when my nails are starting to taste

like maybe four months of every year

is too long and isn’t worth it

for the average person

to stick around through

Im using skin oils on my hands

and vitamin C

but I have multiple nights where I sit on my phone and dig into my cuticles

and taste the last few weeks on them

and knaw my nails down until they border on bleeding

I do that for hours because I cant sleep or i wont sleep

I wouldn’t sleep when i was young for some reason and I wont still sometimes

Only in the winter

Im not scared of the dark anymore

Just so much work to sleep

The feeling of it all breaks me into pieces

The feeling of it all breaks me into pieces, the smell is so overwhelming each wiff i take Im four again, Im seven, Im eleven, I llook at the hot road and I choke up because this is the same road thats always been here thats always smelt like hot pavement and waterballoons

I remember what it was like to be four,

whats stopping me from remembering what it was like to be two

Thats what scares me I think, that one day ill remember, that soon ill remember and there will be no more running

ill remember that as long as ive been, its been bad

but that hot pavement smell has always been here, but those otterpops have always been here, that salty chips and muddy rivers

theyve always been there and how can so much cruelty exist alongside such tenderness and how can they spark the same feeling in me

that same freezing, choking, terrified feeling that this pain and this joy will and have existed for all of time, right beside one another

That neither will ever cease and that they will both exist at the exact same time forever

A horrifying notion because theres no constant, no organization, no routine

Lately Im ignoring my grief

Lately Im ignoring my grief

I carry it in my palms and on my shoulders, I feel the tension in the interwoven strands of muscle and nerve down my back and in my knees

It smells like June now, like warm cannabis

like hot pavement

I’ll see more blue bellies, I’ll see more kayaks on the backs

of beat white Subarus

and I’ll briefly think of my friend who I miss a little everyday but couldn’t talk to

even if I want to,

for the sake of not betraying myself

I’ll go swimming soon and the tension will release, but until Im at a river bed,

I’ll be sitting on the edge of my seat

Im at the horse sanctuary

Thursday, August 7th, 2025, 9:48pm

Ive been painting, and not writing down things I should be writing down. Diane intimidates me beyond belief but she is also a very gentle woman. I wonder what stories she has under her belt.

In any case I wouldn’t dream of prying it out of her

Is that how I’ll be one day, older and unable to speak clearly on my past. Is it because she’s lived with her grief so long and grown around it that theres no use in repeating the events of the past even verbally?

She does talk a lot about other things, which I do love, shes very passionate

I realized after I came out of the shower, this mysterious and unlabeled feeling was guilt or maybe shame, they both equally conflict me

I just want to be a good person, how could I deserve this beauty and peace, this tender love, this undeserved forced forgiveness from God

I dont want him to forgive me, I feel if or when I die and the Lord outstretches a hand to coddle me within his palm, I will rest carefully curled in the center like a blooming tulip, and his hand will fall off.

I just want to be a good person

Diane corrected me, I left the light on in the guest house and the screen door open as well. But she didn’t yell at me or embarrass me, she just told me to remember next time. I said I could’ve sworn I turned the light off, shut the screen door, all she said is “well you didn’t” and some people would see that as condescending and at first I did too and I burned with embarrassment, but the way she said it, so gently. Casual. Don’t forget next time, okay I won’t, but why so gentle? Why’d she have to be so gentle. I feel I don’t deserve gentle. If I was

Death

entered the emergency room like being planted for war, like an angel walking through ruins

I think I’m not going to have my mom this time next year but I hope I do. I have an inkling she will be gone but please stay until I have kids so they don’t have to learn about you from word of mouth

Every piece of you is a piece of me and If you go who could replace that.

I feel she is waiting to let go, waiting until she knows Im in good hands, until she knows Im okay without her for a little but I will never be okay without her. I refuse to look up statistics about pancreatic cancer. I feel one day soon Im going to wake up to her gone

My grandma is very religious, and one thing she told me before has been one of the only things to convince me there may be a God out there. She said we were never meant to die, the grief is so strong, so paralyzing, so gut wrenching. It’s not natural. Nothing is supposed to die. That is the ultimate historical sin.

When Adam bit the apple after Eve, was there a moment of silence shared between them? Did they meet eyes and did the guilt feel less heavy shared? As God cursed them to a life of watching each other wither until it was time to be buried beneath The Tree, did they curl around each other in ouroboros until their bones and muscle wore so thin they could do nothing but fade?

Stack of papers

I’ve finally got my own stack of papers

The kind of stack that sits beneath a coffee table, on a nightstand in the guest room, piled by the front door. Always directly in view but easily ignored. Bills, credit card offers, advertising and coupons. letters from school, a waxy magazine, a sticky note or two.

Mine is less advanced, because I’m new to this whole thing,

A pile by my window seal has accumulated

in order of their appearance I will list;

A receipt from a thrift, two B-Line bus pamphlets, my old high school’s printed log in information for a deactivated account, and disjointed plot lines.

I feel on the cusp of great change and I don’t fear it nearly as much as I thought I would

Once again, as winter gets closer, I feel myself confronting the feelings that stir within me