I doubt my authenticity. I doubt that I speak what is true. I believe that I am fearful. I believe that my thoughts are filtered or strange. I wonder if there is any word I can say that is honest. I wonder if each beginning if true must start true. I wonder if such delineations are useful. I hope that things don’t keep repeating. I worry that I run out of good ideas. I keep doing things because I am surprised.
I think my tooth is falling apart. I believe that it was a very expensive tooth to fall apart like this. I must ask my dentist because the only one in the world that knows or can see the history of my teeth is my dentist. I don’t want to go to my dentist because her office is very far away from me and because I think there is a transphobic dental assistant there. I don’t want to tell them that because it I think the conflict would create more transphobic dental assistants in that office.
I hear voices of men who speak a language I do not know. I imagine them trying to hurt me and realize that I may not be as vulnerable as I think I am. In all of my daydreams I am heroic and victorious.
I feel very unhappy if I see a wrong me. I like the sound of typing. I believe that birth is not the beginning.
I am sitting in a very large room in a men’s boarding house. The room has a table that has 20 seats.
