I made cookies today.
Somewhat out of obligation, somewhat because I wanted to. I wanted people I knew to have cookies. I made some for the people across the hall, who will watch our cats during Christmas. I made a bunch for the people at work, specifically Raph and Kyle because they keep buying me games from the EA store. I can't find the tupperware container to bring them to work though. I am not entirely sure I would want to bring them in that container anyways, what with knowing what horrible things have been in that container before. Not that anyone else would know. And, to be fair, it is probably the most sanitized container in this city.
Speaking of which - ow. As much fun as it is jamming this fucking things in me once a week, it hurts. And it sucks, because, lets face it, what am I doing? I am keeping this fake vagina open, because if I don't, it will close up. Oh yeah, real natural, this. I think I am losing depth too. Not that it matter much, it isn't getting used for anything.
Still a hell of alot better than the other option.
This week was ok for me. I have had some times of being absolutely struck with tired. When you are talking or seeing someone see you and suddenly be overwhelmed with the knowledge that, hey, as much as you want to fight, you can't. So why bother?
When it comes down to it, why? If Christianity is right, I am going to hell. Or, if the other branch is right, when Jesus comes back, I get ressurected - how the hell is that going to be? Will my mind be healed and I will be made properly? Or will my body match my mind? I don't think it matters - what is done already is done. I can't go back. I can't really go forward either.
I had to spend the week waking up at 6 to be at work for 7. Which sounds worse than it actually was. It meant I got to go home pretty early, though I was exhausted by the time I did. And I hated going to bed early. It meant less people to contend with at work. It meant I could be left alone to do my job. 
And it meant I didn't have to sit with people at lunch.
I am having such a hard time coping with this. As much as I used to fear saying something wrong, or my fucking beard showing, or my hands catchin someone's attention, now I know it is visible. I don't want to talk, because now I am brutally aware of the sound of my voice. I just don't know how much of it I can do. Not only that, if I don't sit with them, they might think there is something wrong with me (or them). And when I don't talk, it means they might think I am unhappy or depressed (which I am, but I sure as hell don't want them to know). Or that I don't care about any of them (which I do). And I can't look at anyone, because if I do then it provokes interaction. There is no way to win here. And tomorrow, I have to face it yet again.
And then all week at Christmas. Not only with my family (it was nice of my Dad to mention last time he saw me that sometimes my voice drops. That was a great ego stroke). But also with Steve's family. I have to deal with alot of people I don't know, specifically judging me, and I am not in any place at all to be judged right now. It isn't going to be relaxing. It is going to just be.. hard.
And worse yet, guess what Phil's new girlfriend's name is? Yeah.. I have no idea how I am going to stop from crying every time I hear it.
I keep thinking about her. I keep wanting her to know that she meant everything to me, and that I want her to be happy. That she deserves everything good in life. And that I wish I could have given it to her. That it was my fault. That... everything.
Great, now I am crying.
...and I still have to wash these things so next week, I can keep my fake vagina open.