Yes I am.  I am woman, hear me roar !  I am me.  I am surrounded by people, yet I am all alone.
I am afraid.  I wish to be held by a cuddly bulldyke with  a poodle.  I wish to go down on a woman.  
I wish to be slim-hipped like a 14 year old boy, yet I love my curves.  I struggle with the butch-
femme dichotomy I have created in my mind.  I love femme, submissive boys yet I crave to be dominated.
I search for myself in everyone I meet.  I am half way there.  But I have been here / there all along.
Everything is sexual, I desparately seek Susan (or Mary or Jane or Peta) yet I have no desire.
I love my belly, yet berate it. I love my mother, yet need to escape.  I am not religious, but I feel
I am guided by destiny or fate.  I love myself, I hate myself, I live with myself every day.  I 
identify as a dyke, but I don't know enough Ani de Franco songs.  The only part of me being fucked
is my head.  Mental masturbation. How ironic.  I bought a trampoline. I cannot study, cannot concentrate.
I want to drink away my sorrows, my angers.  Change the blades.  I wish to dull my consciousness and
leave my inhibitions under Dan's couch.  I see people in other people, I am convinced I am friends with
the same person, over and over.  I like the same guy, over and over.  Yet each time he is progressively
more feminine.  I'm not sure if I'm trying to wean myself off men, or whether I like men, but only
feel safe if I am the domme partner.  But it's not partner, it's worshipper/goddess.  I am uncomfortable
with this, yet it happens every time.  I blur butch/femme with domme/sub.  I am fascinated by b&d.
I confused stereotypes, male=power and female=weakness.  I fundamentally disagree with this, yet I yearn
to be butch and I yearn to sub.  I want to be who I'm not, I guess.  I hate makeup, lipstick (I refuse to
make my lips look like my cunt to placate and entice the patriarchy) yet I buy coloured eyeshadow and
glitter and wear it.  I am a feminist, yet I am apathetic.  I envy people who are full of rage @
society's injustices, for I am too lazy to contribute.   The word 'wommyn' annoys me, yet I support 
it's usage.  I hate women who whinge about the dominant ideologies of the oppressive patriarchy and expect 
counselling because men wolf-whistle at them. The patriarchy has no gender. I applaud women who roar, who fight, who castrate
for our kind.  Penises are ugly.  Gay men are funky.  Go figure that one out.  I'm a good Christian man.
I am insanely jealous, of many things.  I pretend to notice things about her that irk me, like she's so
childish.  I try to convince myself, but the ache is still there.  And while I am painfully aware of
what I'm missing out on, I can still look at her with contempt.  Tis a paradox, that annoys me to no end.
Why do I torture myself?? Why do I covet forbidden fruit?? And yet, I do not even know if she is forbidden.
There have been times when I could have, quite easily.  But now, I have lost.  She thinks she is in love 
with an 18 yr old.  She worries about age differences.  Yet she is mentally a child, even if she's 
9 years older.  I sigh.  And I don't even know why I find her attractive. She's not butch. She's not what
I usually go for. I defend her to friends.  In spite of the fact she's sleeping with 3 women that I know of,
she's not promiscuous.  She's nothing bad.  And yet, she is.  So yeah.  
According to Cleo (or cosmo, whichever trashy mag it is that i last read) in an article entitled 'Help! 
my life is a sitcom!' (actually, my life is more like Tales of the City on drugs) wanting what you can't have
is safety. " Whether you're avoiding sex becos of a painful experience or because you don't know to whom 
you're sexually attracted right now " hmmm.... bullseye. Hence the gay men, hence the bi men, hence the 
incredibly femme 'why don't we just make you a drag queen' men. *sigh* so ha! I'm frank... then you can be
betty i guess....  Tears on the sleeve of a man, don't wanna be a boy today.