My identity is ironic at this point.  I’ve spent a couple years following my instincts, trying new things and staying positive.  I’ve discovered delightful worlds that are fun to visit.  I’m still looking for a place where I fit in.  Someone told me I fit in at The Magic Hat but I don’t feel it.  I’m only a performer if the world is a stage.   I’m an audience member, at best.  Granted being a good audience member has its own challenges.

I’ve altered my appearance as much as possible to express how I feel about who I am.  A larger percentage of my body would be tattooed if I had the right resources.  Maybe I’d be perceived as less of a white chick that way?  I could try shaving my head completely but in my experience a good haircut has the same effect.  I could try wearing different clothes however my experience suggests worrying about what I’m wearing is a step in the wrong direction.  Otherwise I just keep being me and suffer as silently as possible.  No one likes a complainer.

There’s a fundamental part of me that I still recognize from my youth.  I remember being young and absorbing the things around me.  I did my best to follow rules when they make sense and understood empathy very early.  Questioning authority is the only real credit I have to my name.  I’m not special and yet am treated better than others?  I’m not challenged by anything except unrealistic expectations.  I hate who I am almost as much as the person you think I am.