You know I've always tried to be an honest person. And while I'm certainly not perfect at it I'd like to think I've done an okay job. Except with one person, myself.

I've denied the truth about myself, subconsciously or otherwise. Thinking back I realise I've been doing this for years, probably since 9th grade. I'd tell myself day by day that was completely comfortable with who I was, what I believed, and that I didn't care what others thought of me. That I always acted like me even if it got me weird looks or if I got called a 'freak' or a 'goofball' or whatever the ###### they came up with. I could roll with the punches, laugh at almost everything said about me, and tell everyone I didn't care what people thought of me. That I wasn't going to conform to make other people around me happy.

Well, as a certain Tyler so elegantly put it once, I'm a moron. I cared what people thought of me, I still care what people think of me. I can tell myself all day long that I don't but that's just not true. I do. I want to be liked and loved just like any other human being. What people say about me does affect how I act, what I say, and probably even what I think. Sure, I've always kept up the facade that I couldn't care less what people would say, and maybe sometimes I really didn't, but the truth of the matter that every insult, compliment, or criticism affects me in some way or another. I may laugh it off or just act indifferent but inside it still hurts. I love getting attention, especially the center of it and I'd probably say any stupid thing to get it.

I've always been the cheerful, generally optimistic, carefree person that I've expected myself to be. That's okay, it's part of who I am, it's not something I can just change, or would ever want to. I've done a pretty good job of maintaining that over the years, but on the inside I feel things that I rarely, if ever speak of, even to myself.

I hate yelling, no I'm not talking about your everyday yell of alarm or trying to get someone's attention. I'm talking about that deep, loud, terrifying blood curdling scream that only the grouchiest, meanest of people can summon from their throats. Well, hello to my late grandfather, who I lived with till I was about 13. Now I loved my grandfather, but the man had anger issues like no one I've ever met since. And naturally who was the person who was on the receiving end of this howling? Well if he and my dad weren't busy screaming at each other it was me. I probably don't need to say it sucked. Kind of makes you feel like fleeing in terror and hiding where no one can find you.

I don't even know why I'm talking about this, maybe I just need too. I tend to act like I'm not afraid of anything, truth is I feel absolutely terrified on some level. It might not come out every day, or even every week, but it's there somewhere. I'm afraid that people won't like me, hate me, think the things I enjoy are stupid, and I'm pretty sure I could cry if the right person decided to start screaming at me. It used to happen all the time.

For a guy who's pretty much declared war against conformity, I'm pretty guilty of it. I've conformed for friends, strangers, my parents, pretty much everyone. So to really start changing all that I'm just going to flat out admit something. I'm genderfluid. Since around my early teens I've been obsessed with the idea of being a woman, I don't think a single day has gone by since then that I haven't at least thought about it once. For a long time I've kept that mostly to myself, sometimes I've wondered if something's wrong with me, or if I need help. I don't even want to think about how my parents would react if they knew how I felt.

Well, I'm pretty much sick and tired of hiding it. So I've decided to just outright admit it. I'm genderfluid, might even be a transsexual I don't know. All I know is I've needed to admit it for long time. It's taken me years to get the guts to do this, and you guys were a large part of it, especially my peeps on Skype. <3

So there, my darkest secret is out, yay.

God...I'm actually posting this.