A wasted life. A life I never really had a chance to be who I should be.
Almost every time I go outside, I see something that wrecks me on the inside. A confirmation of this pain, and there is no real solution. Lost opportunities. I don’t really confide in it much to anyone, I suppose Angela might be the only person who ever knew my every day struggles. Why I don’t like going out, why I don’t watch TV. Which, of course, makes the betrayal that much worse.
Last night, on my way to Rachel’s birthday party, I got hit on by two creepy guys. It was unusual, because I wasn’t wearing a dress or anything traditionally associated with female. I wasn’t wearing make up either. In fact, I chose to go out “as a boy”. Far more than I have in quite awhile partially due to the commute. Maybe I am just a really hot boy? Although I thought I look rather 70s with that purple button down shirt, red velvet type pants and flower boots. (Maybe I’ll post a picture)
It is quite annoying when you’re about to get off at your bus stop and some guy is hitting on you being creepy. I was worried he was going to get off the bus with me but thankfully he didn’t. I don’t like that bus route. Coming back it certainly was scary than the bus I usually take when I go out. But perhaps that is mostly due to my bus journeys taking place west of La Brea.
Of course, I haven’t dated anyone in forever. A lack of a sex drive combined with gender issues sort of, I guess, isolates you from most. Dating sites have always been a comedy of errors. I doubt I’ll ever find anyone.