I know this belongs on a large forum where people who know about the subject will actually read it, but I am afraid to venture out there, and this needs to be said.
I am afraid that I will never grow up. I know I stopped wishing I had a young body once I got over my half-conscious misandry/self-loathing, and by extension my psychosomatic asexuality, but I am still not sure if I am an adult yet. For one thing, even before Margaret Sanger aborted my girlpower, I was uncomfortable being referred to as a woman. It just seemed like such a distant species to relate me to, even though I would by no means consider myself a man or feel at ease playing the role of one. So I asked myself, if I am a female, yet not a woman or a man, what do I think of myself as? I guess the answer was always a child. I never got over it somehow, or there was a hitch in the transition.
The thought and fear of my mental arrest came to me when I was brushing my teeth in preparation for my shower at about 6:30am (It is 6:49 right now and I plan to shower and go to bed right after I finish this entry) when I asked God why…why I feel so unpleasant, why I kill myself day after day…The answer was along the lines of, “You’re alone and scared, and you don’t know how to deal with priorities.” (The original wording, intonation and visual accompaniment were a bit more specific for my emotional system to make sense of than the mere transliteration here.) Then I cried, as I often do when God says something painfully accurate. *cries again* It is true, but I am twenty, for heaven’s sake! That ought to have been behind me almost a decade ago!
I am more scared than ever now, but for different reasons. It hurts Mom so badly to think she may not have brought me gracefully into adulthood as a parent is supposed to do, but this is not her fault in any way, it is something in me that might be no easier to fix than a spinal cord injury. I am so sorry, Mom. I am so sorry. I am very, very sorry.
I would bring up how I am going to handle adult life in general if I fail to mature an enormous way past this point, but I think this is enough stress for one entry. I am so very sorry, Mom.