#'so I'm going to keep putting on this fake persona and wearing another woman's face!'

[technoturian]

On a related note to my last, Miss Martian is the Rachel Dolezal of comics.

[moxiemaemaple]

Who is Trixie?

I've lost who I am some days. I think these layers I've created I've kinda lost the real me, she deep stuffed down somewhere I can no longer reflect. Only glances of her are seen in my artistry, passions. When I strip down the dress up I struggle to look at myself. Who is she?

Who is Trixie? Not who she is now. In appearance she had blonde hair in a short bob. A cowgirl, her style consisted of typical cowboy boots and clothing that a typical modern cowgirl would wear. Jeans, red plaids, hanker chiefs and of course a cowboy hat to top everything. A cute farmer girl hiding out in this desert city.

She was on the run, from some people who wanted to hurt her. She had gotten a call and it put a fear in her…so bad she left everything to go hide out in the sunniest and hottest place I've come to ever been. She thought the attempt at a southern accent and whole dress up would be enough. Unfortunately Trixie's persona fell quickly. Her attempts to hide from another left her blind to someone else who had just happen to run right into her.

With the persona blown I retired her but she forever became a part of me. I know that sounds weird but I kept the boots…the fashion rules I invented for her. Incorporated them into my wardrobe of the time when I was still…me. However I'm a woman traumatized, and a final girl who has survived some of the sickest of this planet. Last time I was dressed up like Trixie something really bad happened to me…its how I got a scar into my shoulder. Had tried to find peace alone ironically in the woods only be hunted by a troubled man, abandon by society and the very system I worked for at the time.

I couldn't wear Trixie's clothes after that day. The last photo I took dressed up…it lives deeply buried in my files. I can't look at it with out crying. I wish I knew how to defend myself against the evils who find me…but how was I suppose to know the truck around there belonged to a psycho on more than a typical hunting trip.

Trixie now exists as Trixie Pebbles the barbie. Plastic in all her glory, a metaphor for her fakeness. Like the cereal, tricks are for kids silly wabbit.

I miss the old me. I miss the old life I had once had. Nothing will ever be the same. I've come to accept it, it is cemented and my feet trapped in this hardened mineral glue. When I think back at everything that I've experienced I just I'm overwhelmed with saddness���what was any of it for?

What is anything even for…?

Today I began my counseling adventures. I had two calls. Others issues feel so simple to solve. Mine? I feel alien. Never understood, never seen, never fixed. What a bullshitter I am huh? I give the most woke advice to others but never practice a single thing I spit. I'm a hypocrite. Lost in here. Where even here is anymore. I've moved so many times that I've lost track of all the destinations I've visited. Its all hell…still hell.

There is that drown feeling again. The blackhole spinning in with its nauseating gravity defying suction. Takes my energy again when it arrives like my own fate is doomed to live in this crippled state.

I keep fighting the depression. We all are. But who are we? If I dive too deep into myself sometimes I'm scared who I'll even end up facing. So I just remain trapped in a routine that pushes me along.

After my second client with counseling I called Crow. I don't know what complied me to call his number just figured, why not. Ended up on a farm…not dressed for the situation. It was too much. So many people. So many strangers. People talked to me and I clocked out. I drowned in those fields, sunk away…felt so sick.

I try to act like I know how to navigate social situations but in truth I'm fighting everything in me to march head first in. I can't explain the thought process but its like if I was a computer and suddenly my graphics card is being forced to overheat itself to just push through a single level of a game. Its swimming against the blackhole, the current of the tide, the pull of the planets around the sun. I wish it was me…though socializing is completely foreign…to me…who would ever guess?

The statement seems conflicting…but I'm so alone. I feel so alone. A pocket device full of people to call, hang out with yet I feel like a wall is between me and others. No one understands. At least how it feels. I've met a very small select few who have felt this alien before, yet none of them are around in my life for various reasons. Making me feel even more less isolated from being understood. The only ones to ever seem to understand all growing to hate me, betray me, exile me from their planets. Maybe I wasn't so like any of them anyways.

I'm back building…who and what am I building…I'm scared of my own progress and future. My paranoia for something awful to happen is dwelling there in the corner of my mind. Nothing ever goes well for me, its a pattern I've tried and continuously fight to avoid.

Day by day.