Saturday, March 31, 2012

Lisa/Eve: What's been going on with me

I'm here. I'm still here. I don't know if anyone reading this has really wondered about my whereabouts... I've just been quietly living this life, kinda thankful and kinda resentful.

Ok. I'm thankful, because if I do everything right, I can still get back to my real body and this won't have been a traumatic experience. Just kind of a boring one. I mean, really... all my friends and I were transformed into different people, and I get stuck as an 18-year-old college girl. It's stressful, it's annoying, and there's really not a lot to say. Compared to Shaun, Anth and Zane? Yeah, I'm okay.

And I'm a bit resentful because I feel like I really shouldn't say anything. Compared to the recent shit Zane's been through, or even Anth, I should be happy. I stay out of trouble, there's no hassle for me. It's annoying that all my complaints seem minor. At one point I read how Anth (aka my "sister") was hooking up with that Blake guy and I wondered why he was fine getting some action but I wasn't. Then I realized I'm surrounded by boys just out of high school, and even when they show an interest I'm just not interested in the slightest. I'm just sitting in my dorm pretending not to notice while my roommate and her boyfriend make out.

Every so often, though, Shaun comes by. I've been separated from the others most of the time, but Shaun and I have been in contact. I think he and I relate, because Anthony and Zane became girls, and his situation is... different. Sometimes, when he can sneak away without his wife knowing, he comes to the college and we go out for a drive and have a coffee.

I told him "You know what I see when I look at you? A lucky man."

"Why's that?"

"You could've wound up in Zane's position, or Anthony's, or mine. You can do Doug's job, you get his wife..."

He stopped me. "You're right. I can't lie, I feel lucky. And I feel like a jerk for not being happier about it."

I say, "You weren't ready to get back in a relationship were you?"

"It's not even that. Believe me, it's nice to have somebody there, but I know she doesn't like me for me. She likes me because she thinks I'm her husband. And I like her because I try not to think about the alternative."

"You wouldn't want to be with her if you were yourself?"

"No, it's just exhausting being a yes-man for her. I'm not a partner in this relationship, I'm a placeholder. I don't rock the boat, even when the real Doug probably would."

"Well," I said, "You have a voice. If there's anything you object to, I'm sure you can reason with her. They're married, so I doubt the whole marriage is gonna fall apart because you wanna eat somewhere different or watch a different show."

He can tell me things like this. He can't phone up Zane, even though "Clara" is his sister. He can't get any sympathy from Anthony, because as much as I love Anth he turns any complaint into a pissing match, and he's definitely got the ammo to top our complaints.

He changes the subject. We talk for a while about Zane and Anthony's lives, mainly comparing notes between what they tell us and what they tell the blog... not that there's a huge difference, but obviously we get a different "version" from the official record. Then I mention something I thought Anthony would already have said, but he doesn't post here often either.

Back around New Year's, Anthony and I took a drive out to Arizona to see the original "us." They became a family of six with two others. Charlotte and Clara, for example, became a married couple, the Tysons. The original Eve became the wife's sister, a rather large woman. When I saw her there was so much sadness in her eyes. Doug became a middle-aged man, and there were two other women kicking around the house who I didn't really talk to but had also been to the inn.

Then we talked about the new "us." As we draw closer to our reservation, we've been in contact with them more and more. The man and woman in our bodies, for example, were a married couple. And Shaun and I were both same-aged single people of the opposite sex. We both agreed that we didn't need to discuss what they were probably doing with our bodies.

I've looked at our old Facebook profiles. There's a lot of recent photos on there with "us" looking very coupley. A lot of people who have known us for a long time have "liked" them, and there's a few comments about how "cute" we look together.

None of these people would have seen us together in our real lives. I was the forever-single girl, he was the relationship guy about to get married. I never would have risked our friendship on that, although in Maine my self-esteem was super low and I admitted having some thoughts (before I knew this was a public blog!!)

I guess he has his rebound now. Between him and me, there are probably some doors best left unopened. That said, I'm back at my dorm, and he slipped me a bottle of scotch, and I've been drinking it all night and I'm starting to consider knocking on doors and seeing who answers.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Ellie: Keeping on

There are things you learn without knowing it. A really obvious example of this is math. Since my tutoring sessions started with Iris, I've been getting 70's rather than 40's.

I think I just benefit from the environment. I think I mentally check out when I'm in a classroom, but with someone sitting down and explaining the principles to me, I can follow along and retain it. Everything's a bit more clear. Iris is a very good tutor, although she's still sometimes awkward socially.

Before she was hired to be my tutor, I'd seen her around the school a bit. She didn't look like someone I wanted to know. It bothers me that I can be this superficial, but she's the textbook high school outcast who might grow into a beautiful woman but for now, is stuck with glasses and acne and an underdeveloped body. She's shy and doesn't have a great sense of conversation, but is also clearly unnerved by silences, leading her to ask every so often "So what's new? Seen any good movies?" I try to humor her.

I ran into her at the mall on the weekend. I hate how often I go, but there's not a lot to do in this town. I go by myself, I window shop and eat mall food. I watch the teenagers a bit, trying to figure them out. I wish I could've had a time in my life to be young and stupid. Well, I did end up being young and stupid, but in my own way.

I saw her across the food court. She smiled and waved and I nodded back and she took that as an invitation to come over. "Hey, how are you? How about that math test?"

I told her how well I did, how good she was as a tutor and she got a bit embarrassed. "It's not hard really. It's just my way of helping. What are you doing here today?"

I tell her I'm just here to hang out. She gets a bit disappointed, I guess because she thinks I'm about to shoo her away. She asks who I'm with.

"Nobody," I tell her. "I'm just here by myself."

"Really?" The idea seems completely impossible to her, that I could be alone willingly. "I thought you were friends with Emily and all them."

"It's... complicated. I'm friendly with them, but I'm not friends with them."

"Do you hate them?"

"No, they're good people, just not the kind of people I'd wanna spend a Saturday with."

"What kind of people would you wanna spend a Saturday with?"

"I like being alone," I tell her.

She admits to me, "I hate being alone. I'm alone all the time. If people wanted to be friends with me, I'd be near them all the time."

I don't tell her she sounds desperate. That the "cool" people don't cling to others so desperately. But I'm not one to pass judgment, because I was pretty needy in my youth.

"With the right people, you know exactly how much time to spend together," I tell her, seriously sugarcoating things.

"So you don't wanna date anyone?"

"I'm not really the dating type," I tell her. I've learned my lesson, especially in the hormonal tiger trap of high school, when you're a Trading Post person, relationships are... practically impossible.

"Is that why you didn't wanna date James Callahan?"

I nearly choke on my soda. James Callahan is a tall, all-American looking boy in our grade. I've had almost zero interaction with him. I've never heard my name mentioned in the same breath as his. After a moment I realize this is probably referring to something from before my time as Ellie. But I later found out it was still "current" enough that Iris had recently heard about it.

I didn't really know what to say, so I said "Not everybody always wants to date everybody else." This is the hard lesson I've learned lately, and perhaps the most blunt thing I've said to this naive young girl.

To my surprise she understands this. "Life would be so much easier if they did."

By the end of the meal, I think I could stand to spend a bit more time with this girl, so we ended up going around the mall together. When I was Sam, I was sort of a fashionista. I treated my first "new" body like a Barbie doll. Even when I was Max, I would go shopping with Tanya and Melanie and help them pick outfits. It changed when I was with Emily, though. I became less interested in the appearance and more interested in the girl herself. I became kind of a guy cliche of "Yeah, she's dragging me along shoe shopping." Even since I've been Ellie, I'm the least girliest I've ever been. I dress in tomboy clothes, jeans and tees and don't think twice about it, even though Ellie's got an impressive wardrobe for a 17-year-old, because I'm not interested in playing the game, not interested in putting myself on display, not interested in showing off this body. I feel strong.

Iris is someone who clearly doesn't know the first thing about the girly stuff, but what surprised me was that she seemed interested. This girl who dresses in corduroys and Converse shoes was eyeballing sundresses and even glancing in the lingerie store. I bit my tongue. I didn't want to say "You should try that on" because I don't want to make her into a project, I don't want to give her a makeover, I don't want to give her the idea that her entire identity is tied to her appearance.

See, that's the other thing you can learn without knowing you learned. I realized, when I was a guy, how much women do to look good for guys. Some of it's for themselves, and sometimes it's to get attention because the attention feels good.

I thought I was escaping. I thought I was invisible at school. But if Callahan has still been asking about me to Emily (and Emily to Iris, hence how she knows) it means I'm still visible, and that the tomboy thing isn't keeping the boys away.

On Monday, I saw Callahan in the hallway. I didn't talk to him, I acted like I didn't know anything about him. But knowing what I knew, I really looked at him. Handsome. Good body. I don't know anything about his personality, but I had him written off as a dumb jock and now I'm not sure. He could obviously date if he wanted to, so it's his bad luck if he's hung up on me... because I'm really not sure what to make of this.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Zane Clara: Expectations

I had another date with Wes last night. I was nervous, I knew it was a big deal, but I didn't puke or pass out or call it off or anything.

I prepared myself. The last time we met, he basically told me he wanted to pay me to be his girlfriend. The more I think about it the more it makes sense. I like being around him, he's really handsome and I can see a lot of girls giving him looks when we're out together. But he's always focused on me and that both makes it weird and nice... because he sees me as more than just a set of tits, it makes me comfortable. Part of me has been thinking I should just try to be his girlfriend for a while now. He deserves it, if he wants me. I just don't know if I deserve his attention.

I was scared of sex. I'm scared about how he kinda makes me want it. I've barely played with myself since I've been on the meds, but ever since he kissed me, I can't help but think "Oh yeah, no wonder he wants me, look at what I look like." I'd wanna see me naked, if I didn't already see it every day. I spent all week watching porn in my spare time, thinking about how easy it could be... just lie back and let him do it to me. I could do that, he deserves it.

I kept thinking about Anthony. This is basically the same thing as what he did with Blake. Except he was doing it for me, and now he won't have to. I can quit modeling and still pay for stuff. Plus, if he could suck it up and let some guy bang him, I could too.

Anthony told me she didn't think it was a good idea. She said it would get to a bad spot if I ever felt like I owed Wes, and it might be hard to get out of the arrangement to go back to Maine. I told her it wouldn't be a problem, and I'll probably figure it out. She's pretty mad at me, but I think she's just arrogant, thinking she can make all the plans and make decisions for everybody. I'm feeling better than I have in months. I knew I could do this.

I still wasn't sure what I was gonna do when I saw him. There was still a chance I was gonna chicken out. I spent all day putting on an outfit... I shaved my legs and my pussy, picked out a nice pair of lacy panties and crammed myself into a tight red dress. Six months ago I wouldn't even look at that part of Clara's wardrobe. Now, with my boobs popping out the top of my dress and the curve of my hips stretching out the fabric, I knew exactly what he was gonna think when he looked at me. I even used some of the makeup tips I got from the girls at the modeling agency, wearing lipstick and painting my nails. I needed the costume to be complete.

He arrived at 8. As soon as we sat down I was squirming. I didn't wanna eat. I wanted to get this over with. I wanted to know. I nodded my way through the conversation, looking at his eyes and watching him eat, listening while he told me about his business trip to China, but I was only halfway through the meal when I said "Let's get out of here."

"Are you sure?" he said.

I was downing wine all night. I couldn't eat my food. I needed to leave and I tried to sound as nonchalant about it as I could but I think a little hiccup of excitement got in there.

"You get the check, I just need to use the ladies room."

I was a bit wobbly on my feet, but I figured I just needed to walk it off. I don't do a lot of drunk walking in heels, so I tried extra hard to make sure I didn't faceplant into someone's dinner. I got to the washroom and ran some water to splash on my face.

The girl in the mirror didn't seem like me. I'm used to seeing myself looking normal, with my hair messy and my face plain and my clothes comfortable. The girl in the mirror was gorgeous. I hardly ever look anymore, but I took a second to stand with my chest sticking out, my hips curved... I wasn't me anymore. I wasn't there. I was just watching Clara's life. It's like a video game... I'm in control, but it's not really me.

I smiled at her and flecked my hair out of my eyes.

Next thing I know, I'm in the car watching the streetlights overhead.

"Are you okay? Are you sure about this?"

"What's my name?" I ask him.


"Yeah," I said. "I'm Clara."

He pulled into his parking space. I leaned on him in the elevator up to his condo. I remember my hands were on his waist. I even put my fingers in his front pocket. He was hard, but keeping his cool.

We got to his door. "Want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm good. Hey look at me."

When he looked, I reached behind and unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor. I was standing there in my bra and panties. All I could think was how hot I'd look in a red teddy or something, I love when girls wear that shit. I knew he would've liked it too.

"What do you wanna do with me right now?"

He smiled "So many things."

"Let's take it slow though, okay? I've never... I mean, it's been a while."

Then we were in the bedroom. I let him take my bra and panties off me, and then I was naked, and he wasn't yet. I laid back and let him play with me... tried not to think about how weird it was that some guy was getting his fingers all over me... teasing my skin, making me all wet. I was shivering. Something was so wrong but so good about it. I had to let it keep happening. It was killing me! I remember thinking how weird it was to let a guy kiss me.

I couldn't look when he took it out. Outside of porn, it's been a while since I've seen one, and I couldn't bring myself to look. It's just instinct, you don't stare at another guy's junk.

I laid back and let him come over to me. By then I was ready. I wanted it to happen. I was feeling so good and so ready... and then I don't know.

I woke up the next morning, naked in his bed with his arm around me. I felt frozen in place like stone. I had to completely rebuild the night in my head later, and when it got to the part where he got naked, it just... blacks out.

I would remember, right? If I let him do it to me, I wouldn't just forget... but I can't remember the end of that night. Just a glimpse of him in the darkness, and then nothing, but sleep I guess. But I can't even remember what it felt like, if he did anything. I just can't believe my body conked out like that.

I snuck out and took a cab home trying to shake this feeling that something bad happened... I mean, I was ready for it. I wanted him to do it. I've had plenty of nights I can't remember, but for some reason, this all just feels... wrong. I really don't like how this all played out.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Tori: Bad day.

Did you ever have one of those days you just knew was going to suck? You stub your toe getting out of bed, you get shampoo in your eyes, you feel fat, your coffee tastes like rust... and before anything's really happened you've made up your mind to hate that day?

I have to be careful when I have a day like yesterday. I work with a bunch of guys and if I show up to work in a huff or seeming short-tempered, I know what they'll say... they'll think it's because of PMS or hormones or whatever they think goes on in a woman's body. I can't just be upset for normal reasons, but today, after the hot water ran out in my apartment and my boyfriend was late to pick me up, I was starting to get a bit edgy.

But I was keeping calm and rational right up until I got summoned to the boss's office. See, Alex and I work for a small shipping company that handles mainly the Philly area. He oversees IT, I handle the warehouse database, overseeing all the comings and goings, basically ensuring everything winds up where it's supposed to. It's actually a lot of headaches for not a ton of pay, but I'm good at it and it sits neatly with my skill set. It's all part and parcel of the comfortable little life I've built for myself.

Last month, we learned the company was merging with a national chain. We were told this was not a big deal, that it was a management issue and they didn't acquire a whole company just to gut its staff. We were comforted by this, so I didn't think it was a big deal when the boss called me in.

He admitted that although they had said no big changes were on deck, a few key staff positions were being eliminated due to redundancy: specifically mine. The new boss' people were overtaking my duties after this month. He was really apologetic, saying he didn't realize this aspect of the deal affected me, and explained how pleased he was with the work I'd done and will gladly provide a reference and so forth. But I still felt like total crap.

I got home and I was in such a huff. Alex was trying to talk me down a bit, saying "At least they gave you this much notice, at least it's good terms" and blah blah blah. I don't want to downplay that they're doing it in a pretty nice way, but it feels crappy. And when I was ranting to him about it, I might have said more than I meant to... what I said was "I thought I was done getting my life jerked around by random forces."

That comment probably confused Alex... I guess I never realized how much I tied my life since the Inn with some problems I had before I became Tori, how I always felt like my life was defined by the actions of others and so much bad stuff happened to me because of chance rather than me doing anything. I've always felt sort of antsy about how much of my life wasn't decided by me, up to and including transforming into a girl. Having my job eliminated by someone who's never met me definitely counts. But Alex has never seen this, as far as he knows I'm not someone who blames the forces of he universe for all my problems.

I scrambled to explain to him that, (and this is at least part of it,) when I was with Buddy, I felt like our relationship hinged on factors beyond our control, as well as my tendency to go from job to job based on what was available (also true.) I don't think this was quite satisfactory to him, but it ended the discussion. I wasn't in much of a mood to do anything for the rest of the night. I stayed up editing my resume, drafting a cover letter, looking for job leads. After all the shit that I went through to get this job... I nearly moved to Houston for a job! ... I'm not looking forward to going through it again.

Tonight's St. Patty's day, though, so I feel like I should put on a good face. I've still got friends, I've still got a life to run. I'll put on the green top and get wasted and forget my problems.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Zane Clara: Can't sleep

That's a new thing. Usually I'm Mr. Sleepy but some stuff happened today that's got me all wound up. I thought about taking an ambien but I'm really weary about how many pills I put in my body.

Yesterday, Anthony told me about this job that came in for me... it's a one-day shoot but it's as much as I've ever made in a month. This guy runs a website "Girls at Home" or something, where he gets girls to hang around their houses in lingerie, doing sexy poses and talking about themselves. It sounds like an easy paycheck except for the part where it's basically stripping.

I've been Clara for six or seven months. I've done a lot of her modeling jobs, but mostly they're ad campaigns or catalogs. She's got a good frame, so it's ideal to put clothes on to show how good they look. All I have to do is stand around with my hand on my hip and my head slightly tilted. I'm like Zoolander. But with tits.

But this... this is big. Like I say, it pays a shitload, just to look hot and give the guy some blurbs for his readers. And it gets the name out there. If I was really Clara... really doing this modelling job for myself... it would be a no-brainer.

But I can't do it. I got up this morning, put on a fresh pair of panties, and just stood there looking at my tits in the mirror. Guys would love to see em but I'm sick of looking at them. I'm sick of feeling them hanging down, sick of feeling the underwire of a bra on my ribs and the straps on my shoulders. Sick of accidentally rolling onto them in my sleep. When I was a guy I loved tits so much, but... I can't do anything knowing a guy;s gonna be pulling his pork to it. That's not me.

The problem is, I don't have any money. Like, at all. I told Anthony I'd take this modeling thing seriously so I could pay for Clara's meds, but I nearly had a freak out when I was told about this.

Even worse would be the idea of talking about myself. What the fuck would I say? "I'm actually a guy in a woman's body, and I got my period for the first time three months ago and it grossed me out so much I nearly threw up. I bled all over myself and had to work the rest of the day like that."

Then I had a date with Wes tonight. I wasn't calling them dates, but that's what they really are. A way of getting out and eating for free and pretending like I really like the guy. Except I do like the guy, and I feel bad he's putting up with me because he thinks I'll put out. But here's what happened, what's really got me freaked out.

I asked him why. I reminded him that I wasn't his girlfriend and he could have any girl he wanted. He said that wasn't true (the part about him getting any girl) but I told him that if even I thought he was handsome, he was clearly a good-looking dude.

So he admitted... wealth and good looks are pretty much the easiest ways to a woman's pants. But I guess all those women throwing themselves at him gets boring because he said he never met a woman who just wanted to sit and talk. Someone who was real, which is really rare out here.

Until me. Which is fucking hilarious. Apparently he likes me because I'm not playing games and not pretending... I told him I wasn't interested in his money or his cock and that made him pay attention. He wanted to know more about me, but I seem to have something inside I'm holding back (yeah, no shit.) How I ask him questions about his life like I'm really interested. I never realized, I thought I was just being polite.

He says to me it doesn't make sense to him why I model. How I seem so humble and self-conscious about my looks and so desperate for people not to pay attention to me. He says when he looks in my eyes, he sees something buried deep down, something sad I haven't talked about, and that must be the source of my "realness." But also how he catches glimpses... I dunno when, but he told me... glimpses of desire. That every so often I look at him like I want to jump all over him.

I was startled. Except for wanting to jump him, it sounded pretty spot-on. I told him I kinda fell into modeling by accident and it was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I did because the offers kept coming in and the money was good. I told him I had certain needs. Bills to pay.

"You kill me," he said, laughing a bit. "You come out with me every Saturday night for a month. We talk, we drink, we have fun. You barely tell me anything about yourself and when you do, it's this money business. And you forget... I'm rich. You are looking at... eating dinner with... playing footsie with a very wealthy guy."

I wasn't playing footsie. My leg was twitching from nerves.

He says "I could do so much for you, Clara. It wouldn't be a hand-out, it wouldn't be charity, because I give money freely to people I care about. But I need to know... do you care about me?"

I couldn't say no. Maybe it was the wine but all I could mutter was "You're my... friend."

"Friend?" He said back. Then he stood up, straightened out his jacket, and walked over to my side of the table. He bent over, got right in my face, nose to nose... and kissed me.

I was gonna push him away, but I just let him do it because I wanted to see where it was going. It was a close-mouthed kiss, lips to lips, no tongue. Maybe three seconds.

When he pulled away from me, he put his hands on mine, then reached into his breast pocket for his checkbook. "This is $500. No strings attached, but if you want more, we're going to have to work out why you keep coming to see me. I understand you're a complicated person, but it doesn't have to be hard. I like you a lot, Clara. Shall I take you home?"

"...yes..." I could only say.

On the ride home I was silent. I had a check for $500 in my purse. That was my share of the rent and then some. I thought about modeling and Anthony banging Blake and me playing with myself, and how I didn't want to throw up just because a guy kissed me.

I kept a lid on things until I got home. Then I walked slowly to my room, threw myself on my bed, and started to cry. Just because I'm on the meds doesn't mean things like this can't freak me out beyond words.

Now here I am. I really don't know what to do. I wish I could just sleep until summer.

Thursday, March 08, 2012

Tori: Taking stock

I've been Tori for two and a half years now. I'm a sore girl. My left ankle and knee get pained sometimes from the fact that I still occasionally roll it when I wear heels. My wrists and fingers hurt more as a woman than they ever did as a man from typing. I threw out my shoulder one time from a particularly enthusiastic lovemaking session. Sometimes I wake up with a backache from the heft of my boobs, and when I get my period my breasts get really tender and sore, along with the usual cramping pain. Every so often I notice myself gaining a little pooch belly, compared to the flat tummy I had when I first became a she, when I'm not careful what I eat or when I neglect the gym. I'm still growing out my hair from when I cut it off last year, because even though it was low maintenance, I prefer it long.

I'm saying all this not to complain about my body, but because I love it. This body has changed a bit since I got it, and I've changed with it. And I'm not the only one. My little sister, Mae, was a cynical, introverted teenager who was resentful of her big sis and suspicious of everyone else. Now she's a beautiful, capable young woman who trusts me enough to confide things she can't tell our parents. I've moved in with my best friend, Raine, and seen my other, Sara, get engaged... to a guy she started dating when I first got here!

The biggest change happened just before Christmas. Well, that's not when it "happened," but it's when I found out about it. That was when my big brother Kenny, and his wife Jana (hey, I was a bridesmaid at their wedding!) announced they are three months pregnant. I'm going to be Aunt Tori.

I'm amazed. I'm thrilled. I'm gonna be such a cool aunt. It's incredible to see these people maturing before my eyes, a life I was dropped into almost at random and hit the ground running.

And then there's me... shedding so much of my old life wouldn't have been easy if I didn't feel like I fit so well in this one. And it didn't always fit and there was a time, I'll always remember, there was a time when I wanted nothing more than to go back, and now there's nothing I'd want less. I'm comfortable. I see everyone I know getting on with their lives, and for a second I think there's more I could be doing, but I remember that secretly, unbeknownst to everyone in my life, I have built an entire life in three short years. I'm proud of myself. I'm also proud that I found someone like Alex.

Alex, oh, Alex. I told you I love him. I never expected, even if I could "put up with" being in a relationship with a man, that I'd fall this far, but he's exactly who I want to be with. More than being smart and funny, he seems to "get" me... as much as I can be "gotten." He knows not to push things I don't want to talk about. He goes along with my sometimes inexplicable moods. I never thought this as a guy, but there are people who truly see us for what we are.

Geez, I just read over this whole thing and it sounds so cheezy. Seriously, this is why I don't post much anymore. It's wonderfully domestic, but it doesn't make for exciting reading.

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Ellie: The female Ferris Bueller

I took today off from school. "Dad" will probably be mad at me but I know he doesn't have any real power. "Mom" is really forgiving, always going on about how it's best for me not to exert myself. I know it's probably a good idea for people Ellie's age to stay in school but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't face those freaking people and I can't pretend I'm even trying to keep up with schoolwork.

I try not to overdo it, but every so often I feel the need to slag off and spend a day roaming the house in my PJ's, eating ice cream for lunch and watching The Wire on DVD.

I met up with Emily for coffee on Saturday. It sucked. She's dating some guy who totally is in love with her. She doesn't see anything wrong with stringing him along. The whole back-to-high school concept washes better with her than it did for me, I guess since I never really went. It's shown me an uglier side of her, because I see her connecting with the vapid bimbos at school and I just think "What's the point?" I thought she had more character.

We talked about the Inn and whether we'd be going back. I said I was completely certain at this point that if I could get back, I would, whether we ever find the real Ellie and Emily or not. Emily was squirming. "Maybe we should just let it be, we can't find them for a reason, it's not very practical, etc etc."

This put me in a bad mood for my first Saturday night study session with my new tutor, Iris. That's right, Saturday night, cracking the books, with some strange girl in my room.

I hate to be judgmental, but Ellie must've left me some kinda residual "mean girl" genes, because when I first saw her at my door I thought she looked like a wreck. Visually, she's not the queen of high school, you can tell. She's a skinny little nothing, with matted blonde hair and loose clothes, thick glasses and acne. Okay, 90% of the people I've met since I've been here have been acne-prone teenagers, but this girl seemed to have a bad case.

I hate that I'm telling you this. I hate that I think that reflects on her as a person. I think it's given her some aggression because she took it out on me hard when I simply could not "get" the math she was helping me with. At first she seemed pleasant, instructing me on the algebraic formula and order of operations and stuff, but the more questions I asked, the more exhausted she seemed and the more I wanted to tell her "Hey, shut the fuck up, I didn't ask to learn math after all this time of being on my own!" I felt a panic attack coming on, but luckily she called it a night early. I think she doesn't like me. Or she doesn't like the person she thinks I am. I'm not sure what I think about her.

It's almost a lost cause, this math stuff. If I made it this far without using it, I doubt I'll need it wherever I end up. Ellie's doomed to stay in high school at least another year even though she should be graduating. Me trying to learn math, that feels like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Unfortunately, that's the one point "Dad" has managed to win over mom, that their little girl needs to at least graduate high school.

Wherever the real Ellie is, I hope it's better than high school.

Sunday, March 04, 2012

Zane Clara: Side effects

A few months ago I almost burned down the house. I left some food on the stove and went back to my room to wait and I ended up falling asleep. I woke up to the sound of the smoke alarm. When I went to see what it was, I saw one of my housemates running the tap over the pan in the sink while another one was clearing the smoke away with a dishrag. They gave me an angry lecture about being irresponsible.

This was before I got on the pills. What I didn't tell them at the time was that I didn't go to my room to fall asleep. I was wide awake and playing with myself.

I didn't admit it to you guys because I didn't want you to think I liked being a girl just because I could touch my own pussy. I know there's people that read this blog that think I should probably feel better about my situation, and I agree that the depression and anxiety has made it hard for me to deal with that. I just felt like it was something I should hide. Besides, in my normal life I would probably not tell everyone how often I jacked off.

It was my coping mechanism. Whenever I felt unhappy because I didn't wanna leave my room and didn't wanna eat, I'd go to the bedroom (or the bath, or the living room later if everyone was out) and strip off. I'd start fondling my tits until I felt a little spark downstairs. I could go for an insane amount of time just rubbing and rubbing, usually over top of the panties. I never came though. Maybe it's because I never put anything inside me because the idea of that scares the fuck out of me. I don't even want to like rubbing myself, but I do... or I did anyway.

Once I got on the pills I didn't want to do it anymore. I haven't really touched myself there since December, except when I have to. Whenever I think maybe I could do it, I remember how long I spent and never really finished and it just doesn't feel like a good idea.

I'm telling you all this because something weird is going on with my life. I was talking to Wes, the rich guy who picked me up at the gala, a lot. I like hanging out with him because he's smart and knows a lot about the world and he's funny, and I don't have to do a lot of talking when he's around. Then last night, I got this weird vibe off him... like he was hitting on me. Mostly he acted like his normal self, but on our way out of the restaurant he opened the door for me and gave me this look like "You know what I'm thinking."

I didn't hate it. I didn't want to punch him, like I do most guys. I know he's a good dude. But it still bothered me. Like we can't just be friends, he has to want to have sex with me.

I keep thinking about him. What if I was a guy and he was a girl, someone who looked like me. And he was smart and funny and willing to put up with my craziness, but he was the one with the tits. Well, he'd be too good for me.

I feel bad for him. I want him to date someone else, anyone. It definately wouldn't be hard for him. I want him to be happy, but not with me.