http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2003/may/02/gender.uk

 http://www.makezine.org/boots.html

im  paranoid. endlessly paranoid.

so i haven't fucked anyone in a long time.

like, a really long time.

the trouble is im not attracted to the average male, and these days, not the average dyke either. i'm attracted to fucked up queers,young hot ones with loads of style. and i'm shy, introverted, and gender confused. i want to live in london dammit. i want space for self-expression. i want a community. i want to meet people like me. i'm bored, i'm numb, i have an apathy/horror towards affection and connection but only because 99% of the time i'm not attracted to the person i'm with and i'm just pretending. underneath it all is a raging lust.  i fell in love once. it took me so long to get over it. because he wasn't like all the other guys. he was narcissistic. he was submissive. he shopped in the women's section sometimes.

i don't know who i am.

hmmmmmm

honesty is not always possible. i've thought at times about writing in a journal, a private one, a handwritten one, just for myself. but i know nothing but exhibitionism. it would be pointless and bring me no pleasure. privacy is alien to me. i don't know how to be honest with myself as all i do is perform for other people, including people online, through my pathetic and insufficient words. so the next best thing to privacy is, i guess, anonymity. 
i have several journals. one that some real life friends can see and i still manage to reveal far too much all the time. one that i made a year ago on a whim and contains a lot of desperation and self-flagellation and makes me cringe when i read it. one that i'm not going to describe in full or there'd be no point in keeping it away from everyone, but let's just say it's purely for talking about my bizarre sexual fetish. and this. i don't know what i'm looking for.

other than that, i'm androgynous some parts of my brain male and other parts female and other parts inbetween, at least online although i don't currently have the willpower or interest in the outside world to be anyone at all, twenty, and i live in the southern hemisphere in a city that's small enough to constantly run into people i don't want to see anymore, and big enough to still feel alone. i also live in another city, which is slightly bigger and slightly lonelier and a long train ride away in a colorless empty so called paradise which is frustratingly removed from the rest of the big wild violent exciting mesmerising world i crave so much. flights away to the real world cost over a thousand dollars and twenty four hours of travel and i crave and crave and crave to experience life over there but it's so hard to juggle this life with one so far away, and so easy to get lost here for years on end, afraid of change and drinking beer and lying on the beach and feeling bored and sad and not really knowing why. 

i'm obsessed with fame, with connection, with wonder, with london and new york and brazil and india and with life, with recreating that first ecstasy trip i had when i was seventeen and the night that shook my world and altered my perception and the tumultuous two years that followed, and all the emotion that seems to be gone now.