animzuk
faina. she/her
- Jul 14, 2026
- 2
hello all
i am left to simmer here alone with my thoughts again because fuck knows i will never get to just fucking sleep with someone. as in, fall asleep beside a warm body. fall asleep in someone's arms and wake up with them still around me. literally anything that isn't dependent on sex. i want to not have to leave in the morning. i want to be wanted as more than holes. but that's a fucking stupid ideal when i literally market myself as holes. fucking dating apps are a curse. they really enable my maladaptive coping mehanisms. that's why i'm on so many i guess.
i have hookups. i have so many hookups. like i am genuinely and unambiguously a total slut. my mom tells me that every time she calls, but that's one of the few things she's right about. i'll spread my legs for anyone. it's easier that way.
because whenever someone actually does manage to get close, i end up either withdrawing completely or blowing it all up myself before something else can. if someone knows me long enough to learn the version of me that isn't performing for the night, that means they're close enough for me to hurt. they didn't sign up for my stupid breakdowns and spirals and self-harm and suicide attempts. and sooner or later it'll just end up with them finding me and driving me to the hospital and then i'll have to wake up in that fluorescent fucking torture chamber where they label me as a man because they've had my chart for so many years that they're probably just annoyed when the sad emo twink that thinks he's a girl is wheeled through those fucking doors once again. and then i see the person who saved me, and i see how much i hurt them, and THAT is the unbearable part. trying to die is easy and safe and comforting. waking up to the pain i have directly inflicted on others always makes me want to die all over again. it's a never-ending cycle and i hate how inevitable and unstoppable it feels.
plus there's the trans layer. if all i'll ever be is a fetish to these people, i might as well learn to fucking accept it. even if it makes me want to die as soon as i'm alone. even if it makes me spend the night cutting myself instead of sleeping beside a human being.
the self-harm is another thing that sucks when intersecting with the hypersexuality. it fucking sucks trying to navigate sleeves while fucking. especially now that i've been on estrogen long enough to have started growing tits. i want to show those off, since they're literally the one part of my body that i don't want to break apart into a million pieces and incinerate. i have to either keep a damn shirt on, or add disclosing the scars and bandages to the whole event of also disclosing i'm trans beforehand. which is always a necessity, because waiting until i'm alone with the other person to let them know i'm not the real girl they're hoping for has led to some very very bad consequences in the past.
currently sulking and moping and drowning in all of this because i had a hookup earlier tonight and it was nice (even though he was a total chaser and only wanted me for his dehumanizing chicks-with-dicks fantasy, which i fully knew and accepted because hey at least he fucks good) and now he's gone and i'm alone and the constant background hum of "i want to die" always gets so much louder in these moments and i know i'm not gonna act on it because i'll absolutely fail if i try something impulsive and stupid without planning it out but. god that noise is fucking loud.
i am left to simmer here alone with my thoughts again because fuck knows i will never get to just fucking sleep with someone. as in, fall asleep beside a warm body. fall asleep in someone's arms and wake up with them still around me. literally anything that isn't dependent on sex. i want to not have to leave in the morning. i want to be wanted as more than holes. but that's a fucking stupid ideal when i literally market myself as holes. fucking dating apps are a curse. they really enable my maladaptive coping mehanisms. that's why i'm on so many i guess.
i have hookups. i have so many hookups. like i am genuinely and unambiguously a total slut. my mom tells me that every time she calls, but that's one of the few things she's right about. i'll spread my legs for anyone. it's easier that way.
because whenever someone actually does manage to get close, i end up either withdrawing completely or blowing it all up myself before something else can. if someone knows me long enough to learn the version of me that isn't performing for the night, that means they're close enough for me to hurt. they didn't sign up for my stupid breakdowns and spirals and self-harm and suicide attempts. and sooner or later it'll just end up with them finding me and driving me to the hospital and then i'll have to wake up in that fluorescent fucking torture chamber where they label me as a man because they've had my chart for so many years that they're probably just annoyed when the sad emo twink that thinks he's a girl is wheeled through those fucking doors once again. and then i see the person who saved me, and i see how much i hurt them, and THAT is the unbearable part. trying to die is easy and safe and comforting. waking up to the pain i have directly inflicted on others always makes me want to die all over again. it's a never-ending cycle and i hate how inevitable and unstoppable it feels.
plus there's the trans layer. if all i'll ever be is a fetish to these people, i might as well learn to fucking accept it. even if it makes me want to die as soon as i'm alone. even if it makes me spend the night cutting myself instead of sleeping beside a human being.
the self-harm is another thing that sucks when intersecting with the hypersexuality. it fucking sucks trying to navigate sleeves while fucking. especially now that i've been on estrogen long enough to have started growing tits. i want to show those off, since they're literally the one part of my body that i don't want to break apart into a million pieces and incinerate. i have to either keep a damn shirt on, or add disclosing the scars and bandages to the whole event of also disclosing i'm trans beforehand. which is always a necessity, because waiting until i'm alone with the other person to let them know i'm not the real girl they're hoping for has led to some very very bad consequences in the past.
currently sulking and moping and drowning in all of this because i had a hookup earlier tonight and it was nice (even though he was a total chaser and only wanted me for his dehumanizing chicks-with-dicks fantasy, which i fully knew and accepted because hey at least he fucks good) and now he's gone and i'm alone and the constant background hum of "i want to die" always gets so much louder in these moments and i know i'm not gonna act on it because i'll absolutely fail if i try something impulsive and stupid without planning it out but. god that noise is fucking loud.
