I Suppose It Could Be Said

I suppose it could be said

I overdosed on God.

Had my high at 25

Lost my mind

All these years

Just putting it back together

Moderately happy

One day at a time

I absolutely believe in God,

And I believe he is evil

Why I am afraid of sex

--------------------------

I have no idea and all too many.

Fear of being seen

Fear of taking up space

Fear of not knowing what I am doing

Fear of not being perfect

Fear

It is the driving hindrance of my life.

I am afraid of everything because I do not understand everything

I find myself trapped in my own head

Desperately trying to understand.

I get turned around and stressed

Obsessively analyzing every single moment of it

Robotically approaching the situation

Trying to solve a formula

A combination

A puzzle that can be beaten

And then I will know it all

Never struggling again.

I need to be god

And achieve the impossible.

Sex is intimate

And that requires me to remove the mask

The mask that is the lie of me.

I pretend at being bold

Knowledgeable.

I play at being functional

And that I get every joke or innuendo.

I am great at seeming like I know what I am doing

But understanding alludes me.

Intimacy brings me face to face with myself

And that is something I have buried under a million miles of sedimentary masks.

I don't know how to be me.

My life is in a massive state of flux right now. Transitioning, surgery, moving, everything seems up in the air. The only thing I do have a firm grasp on is myself, and even in this I am still learning about this me. I am happy, in spite of the stress, I know I am living the life I am supposed to, and it is only going to get more me from here. I have accomplished a lot in my life, things I am proud of. I am my greatest project and words can't describe how happy I am with my own pursuit to that end

Do you know what was in pandora's box?

The fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?

Free will.

Precisely because the first act of free will for humans

Was in this slight rebellion.

To peer into God's tool chest

To eat from his sacred tree

To steel from God what made God God.

Now we are God

And he can no longer tell right from wrong.

An evil dictate from whom we stole morality.