An Infinite Ellipsis

I’d like to begin by apologizing for the false announcement of the last post. It was, premature… to say the least. With any luck, and honest effort, this will be my return into the world of blogger-dom.

If you have read a couple of my blogs, you would notice that my titles deal only loosely with their subject matter. This title, and post, are going to follow that trend, to a degree. This time, I want to kind of spell out what the title pertains to. Dot-dot-dot (…), is known to the informed as an ellipsis. This particular punctuation, when used correctly, indicates a pause in speech. Or sometimes, if used before or after a quote, it indicates an incomplete quotation. “. . . I think . . . I am”. That was supposed to be “I think, therefore, I am”. What an ellipsis is not, is a substitute for a comma, as many, many, people insist on using it as. Random, poorly taught lesson aside, is the explanation of the title. I like to assume, that “An Infinite Ellipsis” would express a sense of unending wait. I guess another potential title could have been, “The Indefinite Ellipsis”, to signify a pause with no sign of a potential continuation… If that makes sense.

While I’m not one-hundred percent sure if I have explained that too well, I must try to tie that to the subject I want to discuss. My life, has been a stop-and-start process. One might say that’s every life to varying degrees, but hear me out. I feel as though my story, if it was to be transcribed, would be riddled with this particular form of punctuation. It’s a rarity it seems, for me to complete much of anything. I find it hard to do things most of the time in general. A great example of this issue, is this blog. Even if I like it, even if it makes me feel better and enriches me, there’s no guarantee I can make myself do it (whatever it, is). If I may be honest, not cynical, but simply provide a truth, I’m a flake.

Lately, I’ve been walking about with a feeling I have always had (at some times more than others). It is an emptiness, a sense of being alien to the very planet I was born, alone, and hyper-vulnerable to many things that the average inhabitant takes for granted. This feeling first appeared when I was about five. I honestly remember, not wanting to be here. Now, that might seem a bit dramatic for a child, sure. But if we look objectively at children, they aren’t dumb. In fact, they are more in-tune with themselves, and their bodies, than we gave them credit in the past. If you look at empirical evidence regarding transgender children, it’s incredible. If a child can tell you, “I’m not a boy”, “I’m not a boy or a girl”, or “I’m not a girl”, I’d say a child can have suicidal stirrings- even if they can’t draw that connection. The past few weeks, I’ve been identifying where I feel these things in my body, and letting my imagination manifest them. Do you want to know what came of it? I thought you might. The feelings dwell in the center of my trunk, up to my chest. It feels cold and painful, heavy, yet unoccupied. Yesterday, I went for a walk and pictured it as a series of terminal wounds (in the aforementioned areas) that were just exsanguinating (bleeding out) slowly as I went. But it’s more like my soul is punctured, not my physical being. In a weird way, it’s as though I have a kind of phantom internal bleeding that’s been occurring since I can remember.

I hope this post was not as depressing as I think it might be! The major reason this blog was started in the first place was to reach out and inform those who want to understand people with disorders, as well as offer a sort of (potentially) relatable voice for those who are going through similar things! If anything, it’s kind of beautiful when one can express themselves and not be condemned for feeling what it is they feel! I see America as having a, get over it, mentality a lot of the time. I’m proud that I’m finally letting myself open up. Somehow, I feel stronger allowing this vulnerability that I used to possess and share. Attempting to nix, or contain it (it being the vulnerability) is tiresome and just leads to more problems. If you keep your guard up all of the time, it’s truly difficult for any of the good stuff to reach you. It is a bit hard attempting to learn when, and how much of myself, I allow people to access at my age. To begrudgingly quote an ancient phrase, “Better late, than never”.

As always, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this! There’s a lot of content out there, the fact that you found this alone is kind of impressive on it’s own! If you have any questions or comments, don’t hesitate to reach out. If you have anyone in your life that this might relate to, please share this with them! I hope your day is, was, or will be phantastic (phantom+fantastic, not a typo).