My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness

I was excessively afraid of being defined as a woman before I was seen as myself.

I had money...But for some reason, I couldn't go anywhere. Apparently, finding a warm place to belong...Takes something other than money. Several years later, I realized that this "something" other than money...Was also required to enjoy food, to keep yourself neat and tidy, and to mutually respect people. But at the time, I dind't know that.

I wanted to be that kind of shining adult. But would I get there if I was always worrying about what my parents thought?

Maybe the times I couldn't move were the times I needed to take better care of myself.

Up until then, i'd never understood how people could just keep on living (...) Maybe I had a place to belong, but it wasn't something definite, like a seat. It was flowing and formless... Perhaps inside of me, perhaps outside of me. A reason to live, the power to live, a place to belong in this world... I think the essence of that sweet nectar varies from person to person.

I thought my parents would love me more as a child. So I couldn't become an adult.

But it's easy to understand thr pain when it's my body that's being hurt. It calms me down. I don't really understand the pain in my heart. It doesn't have any real form.

As for why... I didn't want to admit that I was female. It wasn't that I wanted to be a boy, more like I hated the whole idea of belonging to a gender... That somehow before I was ''me'' I was a ''woman'', like I was scared of being overly defined by those expectations, I guess...

There are people who say that "when you reject one thing about me, I take it as a full rejection of me as a person".

But I was happy to be falling apart. Getting hurt absolved me something. I thought it would lower the bar for other people to accept me... and then I could find a place where I belonged. But I still wasn't anywhere close to the welcoming kindness of a hospital bed.

I lost the things that had given me shape, and as they disappeared, I felt like I was dissolving into thin air.

I also realized that becoming the adult my parents wanted me to be was on an entirely different path from becoming the adult I wanted to be — and it had always been that way.

Maybe I’ll be able to look harder at the past by getting some experience in the present.

That day threw me away into a dark, painful space with nothing below my feet. I'd lost my candidate for a place to belong.

When other people couldn't see that I was trying it fell like no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't really be trying at all.

I decided not to think about the shock-induced death of my family.

I was really, really lonely. I didn't know why I was hurting. I just had this longing, and it was finally going to be fulfilled. But I felt like I had to open my heart... ...or my loneliness would never go away. I was sure that anyone would hate the real me, if they saw her.

Il fallait que j'arrête mes efforts vains pour recevoir l'assentiment de mes parents... Même si les choses ne sont pas déroulées très bien par le passé, j'ai comme le sentiment qu'à partir de maintenant, ça devrait aller mieux. Comment je peux vivre ma propre vie si je me soucie trop d'être une fille modèle ?

I think that starving for a sweet nectar you can’t drink — being unable to try — is because you can’t love yourself.

For me, my parents' opinion was everything. I wanted my parents to approve of me. I wanted them to accept me, even if I didn't try hard enough. That was my sole driving force.

I bet everyone wants to be held,” I thought. Just wanting to be held can make people hurt each other, and lead them into sexual relationships which they then come to depend on. I just want to be held by someone and feel safe in their arms... how hard could that be...