The Silver Swan

We live our lives, we grow, we learn, we work, raise families, make friends, create enemies, break hearts and sow the seeds of the future. In human life, there is a rather simple and observable trend that arises when we subjugate ourselves to such cycles as many do. Our lives are bereft of melody, sound... The music of our soul is oft no more than a gentle and dull hum no different to the one you might hear from a powerline looming overhead - a basic and unchanging wave with little deviance. In death, we break away from this. The trend is that we live our lives mute only to sing a few high-notes before a dramatic end to it all. Much like Gibbon's swan, we find that our first song if oft' our last one.

But that's not why you're here, is it? If you wanted to read into cynical dialogue about the nature of our lives you'd likely seek out a book on psychology. You're here because, quite frankly... You've come to read about me... No doubt curious why a book with tarnished pages and a cover caked with dust has been opened. I'm writing because I feel like I owe a great deal of explanation to everyone, whomever you are. I am very much a closed book to the world, even to my friends. I don't allow myself to be read into, and often ignore those who attempt to. When I started writing this blog, a lot of people were surprised what I was feeling and what sort of things I wanted to talk about. Nobody saw half the things I had to say coming, which speaks quite plainly that I'm not communicating very well.

Where did we leave off? Right, I was fired... Ranting about "Lorem Ipsum", useless filler to make a page seem pleasing to the eye. Many things have happened since that day, and I suppose I should inform you about what's been happening in my life. I can't promise you that it won't be full of angst, or drama... I can only promise you that it is going to be a very heavy read. So, sit back. Relax, go grab something to drink; maybe put on your reading glasses? You'll be here awhile.

Everything was fine after I was fired, relatively at least. Though my issues with Dale were still escalating at the time at a rapid pace things were relatively predictable and stable. I removed him, deciding that I no longer desired to be friends with him as it just wasn't working out. It wasn't exactly an easy choice to do as he was a friend of ten years, but it was a choice I made regardless. I tried to reign myself in, curb my habits that were taking up my time... And tried to spend more time with Sam. In fact, it even looked like I had some work coming up in the future that would help me out.

That's when I found a certain e-mail, from Dale... Sent to Sam (Who was of course on vacation). While I won't cite the things which it said, the message was clear. He wanted nothing to do with Sam anymore, he couldn't handle doing things behind my back with her. He didn't believe she even really loved him, and that he felt like he was being manipulated and used. It came as quite a shock to me, and unthinkingly my first reaction was that this was a plot by Dale to try and break Sam and I up. I trusted Sam, absolutely. There was no doubt in my mind about the integrity of our relationship, and I thought it must be some well-concieved plot to get back at me.

It wasn't. I spoke with Sam, who initially played along with my false idea that it was all some sort of set-up... Though she eventually came clean that her and Dale had been dating and doing things together, that she had been cheating on me. I don't know, really. I'm still numb about it to this day. I questioned her endlessly and without break, battered her with questions. I was crushed, and torn in so many different directions. Not only had my best friend drove a knife through my spine, my lover had helped to do it. The blade sunk so much deeper that day... It hurt, more than you can imagine. But I learned to live with it, that a knife in the back isn't something that needs to slow me down. I forgave her, I moved on with that part of my life and carried through the relationship.

...Then I found work. I found work during the election as a polling clerk, counting ballots and looking up names. That sort of thing, it paid well enough. On the last night, the night I needed to count my votes I had a dilemma. Sam and I were playing around on Teamviewer, and she had gone AFK... Her Skype was open, and likely had logs of everything on it. This is honestly a case of curiousity killed the cat, I looked. I looked and looked and looked. My heart sank, my veins were on fire... My jaw numb, and acid coursing through my legs. Not only had she lied to me about the extent of what they did, she had lied to me about not "playing around with him". She was screwing around behind my back, and though I didn't account for all the other forms of messengers she and him shared... I saw only a few logs. Which while a relief, was still incredibly jarring.

What happened next? I had to go to work, of course. No cellphones, no outside communication, advanced polling was unexpectedly busy this year and it took me twelve hours for it all. I hadn't been able to speak with her before I left... And thus began the worst day of my life. For twelve hours I sat like that, numb, angry, full of agony and hatred... Unable to speak, talk about it. I wanted to rip my hair out and leave, but couldn't; I was legally obligated to stay no matter what. Leaving would mean incarceration, or a 10,000$ fine. So there I sat, and stewed... Unable to do anything about what I felt.

...I forgave her, again and again I questioned her, and I forgave her. After all, it was only a few times right? It was a lapse in judgement. If only I had known just how many times she fucked around behind my back that day, I swear it would have been over right then and there. It is a good thing that it didn't happen, because I honestly couldn't promise the safety of anyone on that day had much more happened to me. My wounds became scars, and the scars eventually receded... I learned to move on, crippled, with the knife in my back and my heart taped together.

I became fiercely paranoid about everything. The entire time I suspected her and Dale might be cheating, I was goaded and tormented. "You're paranoid." they cried, everyone did... Save Ryou. The fact that I came to accept that, and that it was pulled away from me? That my apparent paranoia turned out to be true? It made me scared, deeply afraid of just how much it was that people could manipulate me. I moved into an apartment with my brother later, and thus began some of the most stale and frightening months of my life. I was unemployed, my resources slowly draining... Farther and farther I sunk into debt. I was afraid of people, afraid to work. I dropped off resume after resume with a heart full of regret and fear, and nobody called back. One month, two months, three months... One hundred resumes, two hundred. Thirty applications, nothing.

Nobody called. My fears grew, my family believe I was purposely putting off looking for work and my fear of them intensified. I thought my brother to be manipulating my mother into hating me, I became deeply afraid of him, to the point where I believed he was actually out to kill me. He'd give me something to eat every now and then, and I'd honestly fear that he might have poisoned it. It drug on, and one... Four months, five months. It was then that I got a call, I had an interview. After all this waiting, all this time... Someone called me back.

...I couldn't take it, I couldn't handle it. I was starving, destitute, in debt and with no food. Deeply afraid of the world and everyone who might be my support. The only thing I had going for me was the bottle of Ativan I had on my desk. 15MG. It wasn't enough to kill me, by any means... But enough to try, maybe put me into a coma. Let me sleep myself peacefully out of this world. All suicide is painful, physically... Save for sedatives, they're the one painless escape, and they were there only a few feet away.

I cried, and I cried, and I cried. I said goodbye to a few of my friends, some of them didn't believe I was being serious; it only edged me further. I took them, and waited.. Face down in the pillow, the insistent beeping of messages being sent slowly rousing me from my position. It was Ryou, who you of course know is my ex. Out of anyone, he cared the most; and it's likely him who saved me from a fate much worse. After talking me down he managed to get me to call an ambulance, and the only thing I remember? "Why did you try to kill yourself?" The operator put a man on the phone, to talk to me. "Why did you try to kill yourself?" I didn't reply. I stood there, quiet. Unspeaking. "Are you still there?" "...Yeah.". "Why did you try to kill yourself?" I didn't budge. The ambulance showed up, and I let them in. I was practically naked, so they made me dress. He looked at me, and asked firmly. "...Why did you try to kill yourself?" I blacked out.

Waking up in the hospital, my mind groggy... My body lacking control. I threw up, the nurse stood me up... And I wetted myself. They redressed me, and someone said I could leave. Unthinkingly I did, stumbling out before falling over. I lacked motor control. Someone else picked me up and put me back in bed. They were desperately understaffed and there were too many patients. There were three nurses, I can recall their voices quite distinctly though I know not their faces or names. Later, one said I could leave if I wanted to. I was afraid, what if my parents knew? What if they were called? I left, I fled. My mind drawing blanks and my motor control poor I stumbled home.. Briefly remembering glimpses of streets in my mind I'm surprised I made it there. The walk seemed to only take seconds, my keys reached the door and I was there. Home.

My memory is foggy, I don't remember anything three days after. Ryou didn't believe I had actually tried to do it after, based on the principle that I was back so soon. It didn't matter, I looked forward to my one remaining salvation on this world. My sister, the only one who was providing me with any amount of support. I told her what happened, and she immediately drove up... We spent the week together, and for once in my life I felt normal. My parents talked to me as well, as they found out "through the grapevine". There was a stern albeit heavily concerned talking to, they were confused and didn't know how to react. I honestly don't think anyone in my family could have seen it coming... After all, I never talk about myself.

While I might have been saved that night, I very much died. I shed my coil, my dagger and my broken heart. I was numb to it all, and simply carried on. The fighting between Sam and I ceased and I found myself in a job I hold to this very day. I get along with my coworkers, I enjoy my work. While there is drama, it is the least I have seen in all my years of living. I'm finally paying back debt, and putting my plans in place.

And that's when it happened. It fell apart, Sam and I. She started coming home, talking about some other girl... How similair they were, how great she was. How they had so much in common. How her mom had invited Sam to dinner and everything. The word "perfect" came up a few times in conversation, and when I was more than a little offended I was berated. I was being paranoid again. Did I come home and talk about people from my work, and how wonderful they were? No. I came home, I sat down and I waited for Sam... Who worked, and worked, and worked. Who came home and bitched about how terrible her friends were, how wonderful other people were. I held on, but I could eventually feel it slipping. I could feel the one thing I held so dearly to myself slipping from my grasp.

She told me she no longer wanted to move up here, that she couldn't leave her life behind. The friends and family she only spoke terribly of to me were now more important than anything. She's a twenty hour car-drive apart from me, and moving up here would be abandoning them? I didn't understand, I couldn't understand... And with my debt, my medical situation? I could never afford to move. We grew distant, slowly but surely things got slower and slower... Before there was a noticable gap. I tried to bring it up, I wanted to talk about it. I tried to talk about it, and she wouldn't give me the light of day. She was tired, she couldn't even be bothered to stay up and hear me out. I pleaded, am I really not worth staying up for anymore? Isn't this important? Please stay awake... I want this to work. She wouldn't, she wouldn't even go as far as to stay up for me at the most critical moment in our relationship. I said "I'm sorry". It was over.

It was over, and there was no backlash. There was nothing, not a tear shed.. Not a shout, or scream. Nothing, she acted like none of it even happened. Like we were always just friends, even though we had never been friends with one another. She wanted me to "stay in her life". ...And then contact dropped, one-by-one blockades were placed upon the roads. She didn't even want me in her life anymore, going as far as to delete the shared folder filled with music she made for me. I couldn't handle it, I couldn't deal with any of it. For two weeks, all the pictures... All the memories, logs. All of it sat there on my computer. Hounding me each and every day... And I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. It took two weeks to muster up the courage to purge it all, and even then I was quick to restore what wasn't lost forever.

...And then I thought to myself. All this time, I've ditched my friends. The friends who really mattered here, and though Dale might have done some terrible things, I still missed him. He was still my friend, I still wanted to be his friend. I wanted to forgive him... So I did. We came in contact again, I met with my friends once again and they accepted me with open arms. These are people who I had known for over a decade, who were quickly pushed aside and forgotten because I was under the mistaken belief that I was in a relationship with someone. I wasn't, I was in a relationship with a cold and calculated lie. It wasn't "a few times" that she screwed around with people behind my back, it wasn't even five, or ten. The number was immeasurable and far too immense, and I honestly couldn't forgive. She had given away my personal information to my friends, told my deepest secrets and even went as far as to tell people what sort of "fetishes" I have in order to try and reinforce hatred. Had I known this, I would have saved myself eight months of time and stopped it all then and there.

And now? Now, I don't know. I'm here, I have a job... I have food, I might be poor but I no longer go hungry. I can afford to do things, go places. See people. My work is good, and I've been reunited with so many important friends... And I learned an important lesson, that my real struggle should be first and foremost to bring peace of mind to myself. I shouldn't deprave myself in order to make others feel fulfilled or satisfied. I came out to my friends about the thing I'm most insecure about, a thing I'll openly come out to any of my readers as well.

I'm transgendered.

And honestly? As much as my struggles might hurt, as much as people may give me dirty looks... To each and every friend I told? They didn't care. It didn't even register. "Ok." "So what?" were the responses I recieved. I was overjoyed, I felt normal for once. It didn't matter to them at all. I was me regardless of what "binary gender" I had. While I'm still numb from the trials I've gone through... I'm starting to reach my destination. This long journey can finally come to an end, and that's when the real adventure can start.

You'll be pleased to know that I've been listening to EinAstronaut again. Seriously. <3 this guy. He looks a little dorky but there's just something about his music that I can really connect with.