Update 2 months
If anyone is curious, the transition is going okay. I’ve been slowly putting on makeup at least not obvious. There has been some physical changes.
The therapy is going well. As for the pills, there haven’t been any major side effects, which is good. It’s a change from just dressing up to eventually being something permanent.
Vivianne
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
What Is
What Is
I do not question what if, it’s seemingly childish, it is asking about something inevitable. Life is not about experiencing what if but it is about living what is, something destined.
Significantly growing all senses over time, emotionally coping as new situations appear, mentally challenging one mind day to day, and physically pushing one body through everyday situations.
Now quietly sitting down, slowing rolling my fingers on my back, my body now changing everyday, closing my eyes. Napping in a light trance, the same senses with new meanings.
I exist.
Vivianne Summers
I do not question what if, it’s seemingly childish, it is asking about something inevitable. Life is not about experiencing what if but it is about living what is, something destined.
Significantly growing all senses over time, emotionally coping as new situations appear, mentally challenging one mind day to day, and physically pushing one body through everyday situations.
Now quietly sitting down, slowing rolling my fingers on my back, my body now changing everyday, closing my eyes. Napping in a light trance, the same senses with new meanings.
I exist.
Vivianne Summers
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wind
Wind
Questioning moments as time come to pass, new thoughts, feelings, expression. A cascade laying down revealing a body, an unseen mystery feel of emotions and thoughts, hidden, but now opening up. Asking myself what will come to pass, expecting the unexpected. A soaring bird flying through the wind, gliding effortlessly through the air.
Vivianne Summers
Questioning moments as time come to pass, new thoughts, feelings, expression. A cascade laying down revealing a body, an unseen mystery feel of emotions and thoughts, hidden, but now opening up. Asking myself what will come to pass, expecting the unexpected. A soaring bird flying through the wind, gliding effortlessly through the air.
Vivianne Summers
Friday, April 3, 2009
Beautiful
Beautiful
Beautiful to me soft, innocent, dainty, pleasant, romantic, elegant, and charming an enlightenment that cannot be described with simple words; but something we are aware of, seeing or touching it. You smile when it appears, a magnificent light with such clarity it shines upon but it just as fragile as a feather gliding through the air.
As long as I remember, I masked all my emotions and feelings, in a worldly form a tough interior and exterior. Based upon what everyone wants to see, something people want to be safe in. Praying day to day just to survive, praying for new hope and the mask is never broken. Knowing to be transparent will lead to pain, anger, and regret. Tearing apart what I created.
The princess in a beautiful snow globe might be a metaphor or a truth. While growing up playing with a snow globe imagining a white dress watching white shining flakes flowing down or a dancer is wearing a soft pink dress in en Pointe. Or maybe a young girl with green eyes as rare pink diamond, walking a great labyrinth, among a rainbow of flowers, pathways and directions revealing endless possibilities. As I am walking a bright light gazing upon watching every direction taken.
Vivianne Summers
Beautiful to me soft, innocent, dainty, pleasant, romantic, elegant, and charming an enlightenment that cannot be described with simple words; but something we are aware of, seeing or touching it. You smile when it appears, a magnificent light with such clarity it shines upon but it just as fragile as a feather gliding through the air.
As long as I remember, I masked all my emotions and feelings, in a worldly form a tough interior and exterior. Based upon what everyone wants to see, something people want to be safe in. Praying day to day just to survive, praying for new hope and the mask is never broken. Knowing to be transparent will lead to pain, anger, and regret. Tearing apart what I created.
The princess in a beautiful snow globe might be a metaphor or a truth. While growing up playing with a snow globe imagining a white dress watching white shining flakes flowing down or a dancer is wearing a soft pink dress in en Pointe. Or maybe a young girl with green eyes as rare pink diamond, walking a great labyrinth, among a rainbow of flowers, pathways and directions revealing endless possibilities. As I am walking a bright light gazing upon watching every direction taken.
Vivianne Summers
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Hidden Message
Hidden Message
Some people might think my expression is wrong a bad direction, a sinful or self-righteous act. Don’t people see something beautiful, not just a person who can be beautiful even pretty but also a person who wants to look it. Like little pink flowers drawn in an incomparable delicate pure white mosaic but sometimes fragile that calms one nerve. My mosaic lifted up day to day through quiet prayers slowly being answered.
Maybe I should have kept it a secret, something not revealed hidden, a reflection both mental and physical, never touched or known. Keeping a fabricated half-truth to keep everyone content. A reality that everyone wants to believe and see, a lie, something to be comfortable with. A broken mosaic held only by a light and close connections.
I have kept myself hidden, daily, memories of a lifetime buried, withering away day to day. Knowing to be transparent would lead to hurt, pain, and rejection. A step taken without regret, having an existence that is true. Knowing society norms, standards, and inclinations to false realities fits in but being something genuine, is right.
I’m a pink rose masked behind soft candlelight, revealing one through soft words.
Vivianne Summers
Some people might think my expression is wrong a bad direction, a sinful or self-righteous act. Don’t people see something beautiful, not just a person who can be beautiful even pretty but also a person who wants to look it. Like little pink flowers drawn in an incomparable delicate pure white mosaic but sometimes fragile that calms one nerve. My mosaic lifted up day to day through quiet prayers slowly being answered.
Maybe I should have kept it a secret, something not revealed hidden, a reflection both mental and physical, never touched or known. Keeping a fabricated half-truth to keep everyone content. A reality that everyone wants to believe and see, a lie, something to be comfortable with. A broken mosaic held only by a light and close connections.
I have kept myself hidden, daily, memories of a lifetime buried, withering away day to day. Knowing to be transparent would lead to hurt, pain, and rejection. A step taken without regret, having an existence that is true. Knowing society norms, standards, and inclinations to false realities fits in but being something genuine, is right.
I’m a pink rose masked behind soft candlelight, revealing one through soft words.
Vivianne Summers
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Pandora's Box
Pandora's Box
Hidden in a Pandora box, a perfect square, black outside but a pink inside.
A little princess gazing upward, staring at a bright light shining, laying down on a green field, patches of pink lilies and roses leaving a soothing aroma.
A box inside with sides of friends, family, and society life experiences and paradoxes.
Reflecting on the outside a mold. Made to fit everyone expectations and desires, conforming to society over time. Always a box, with a light shining through the exterior from above.
A box now shattered partially, only revealing a young lady, speaking mannered thoughts and writing in distinctly soft words. An inner beauty, exquisite, a lady wanting to express herself.
A box not revealed to keep friends, family, and society unconcerned, a mask carefully planted. Strong, determined, masculine, willing, living the very ideals society believes. I'm physically caged, in a box, a choice not made.
Hiding someone beautiful, warm, elegant, delicate, and dainty seen through enchanting crystal eyes and eloquent words.
The very core of my strength, the essence, depended on daily, but fully hidden, screaming to be heard and seen. A enchanting princess adorned in white holding hands to the air, looking upon the light, looking upon a pink butterfly hovering in the air looking upon oneself. An ice princess.
Vivianne
Hidden in a Pandora box, a perfect square, black outside but a pink inside.
A little princess gazing upward, staring at a bright light shining, laying down on a green field, patches of pink lilies and roses leaving a soothing aroma.
A box inside with sides of friends, family, and society life experiences and paradoxes.
Reflecting on the outside a mold. Made to fit everyone expectations and desires, conforming to society over time. Always a box, with a light shining through the exterior from above.
A box now shattered partially, only revealing a young lady, speaking mannered thoughts and writing in distinctly soft words. An inner beauty, exquisite, a lady wanting to express herself.
A box not revealed to keep friends, family, and society unconcerned, a mask carefully planted. Strong, determined, masculine, willing, living the very ideals society believes. I'm physically caged, in a box, a choice not made.
Hiding someone beautiful, warm, elegant, delicate, and dainty seen through enchanting crystal eyes and eloquent words.
The very core of my strength, the essence, depended on daily, but fully hidden, screaming to be heard and seen. A enchanting princess adorned in white holding hands to the air, looking upon the light, looking upon a pink butterfly hovering in the air looking upon oneself. An ice princess.
Vivianne
Monday, March 9, 2009
(random thought)
Random thought
Society trains you that being physically male means you have to think, act, and react male. A superficial lie, etched in stone.
Even being your thinking about silk soft stocking gently touching the skin or glistening transparent romantic dress, is treated with equal disdain. If talked about laughed at, treated as a sinful thought. Such prejudice this society lies behind; hiding hate and the thought to conform.
At a young age, I was going through changes, looking at myself in the mirror daily; hoping for something to happen. The physical changes reinforcing what society believes; the belief physically male must mean masculine. I would like to have soft silky hands, long slender legs, long smooth beautiful hair, and much more; saying to myself daily. Each day going by hating it. Learning to reinforce the lies society has; giving small clues though out.
It took a few words at a young age; to create a mask my whole life time. I live a life of confusion; all my interaction is feminine; leaving strangers, friends, girlfriends, and family often confused.
The thoughts “That outfit looks cute on her. What do the outfit look like on me? What color nail polish or hairstyle matches it? What shoes? What hosiery? Where can I get it? Oh by the way, the weather is nice”, is unspoken.
Vivianne
Society trains you that being physically male means you have to think, act, and react male. A superficial lie, etched in stone.
Even being your thinking about silk soft stocking gently touching the skin or glistening transparent romantic dress, is treated with equal disdain. If talked about laughed at, treated as a sinful thought. Such prejudice this society lies behind; hiding hate and the thought to conform.
At a young age, I was going through changes, looking at myself in the mirror daily; hoping for something to happen. The physical changes reinforcing what society believes; the belief physically male must mean masculine. I would like to have soft silky hands, long slender legs, long smooth beautiful hair, and much more; saying to myself daily. Each day going by hating it. Learning to reinforce the lies society has; giving small clues though out.
It took a few words at a young age; to create a mask my whole life time. I live a life of confusion; all my interaction is feminine; leaving strangers, friends, girlfriends, and family often confused.
The thoughts “That outfit looks cute on her. What do the outfit look like on me? What color nail polish or hairstyle matches it? What shoes? What hosiery? Where can I get it? Oh by the way, the weather is nice”, is unspoken.
Vivianne
Monday, March 2, 2009
Distraction
Distraction
Is the distraction an act or figment of imagination?
Something believed to be amusement or light contradiction, even through the feelings are as tender as an ice princess, deeply attached. A crystalline princess looking up; the fact is a carefully created rose is always there.
Can all these years be summed up to the simple word, distraction? The very last thing wanted; nor one step taken day by day, no matter how significant. Does friendship base itself on the word, distraction? Do a friend base their thoughts on a person based on what other people might perceive?
A delicate pink rose still exist; bleeding from the sharp thorns crafted in single, deadly words. Stranger words might hurt; but friend words cut. A deadly rippling effect tearing apart a mosaic. I’m exhausted from a long year of extended work hours and sharp words carefully tearing distancing ones heart.
A black porcelain doll still lives; unmasked, showing it day to day. You just have to see it, a pink rose.
Vivianne
Is the distraction an act or figment of imagination?
Something believed to be amusement or light contradiction, even through the feelings are as tender as an ice princess, deeply attached. A crystalline princess looking up; the fact is a carefully created rose is always there.
Can all these years be summed up to the simple word, distraction? The very last thing wanted; nor one step taken day by day, no matter how significant. Does friendship base itself on the word, distraction? Do a friend base their thoughts on a person based on what other people might perceive?
A delicate pink rose still exist; bleeding from the sharp thorns crafted in single, deadly words. Stranger words might hurt; but friend words cut. A deadly rippling effect tearing apart a mosaic. I’m exhausted from a long year of extended work hours and sharp words carefully tearing distancing ones heart.
A black porcelain doll still lives; unmasked, showing it day to day. You just have to see it, a pink rose.
Vivianne
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