Heals The Original Dryness

i've got a hair cut and some new bra's... i must be 20...

that statement doesn't have the same effect it had in my head. that was supposed to be a statement that it's currently technically my birthday. but instead it seems like a statement about how i am embracing that i am 20. buying shit for myself that i've basically needed for a while has nothing to do with feeling 20. in fact the only times i feel remotely 20 is when i'm at work or hanging out with a large group of 21+ people. but even typing that right now, it doesn't feel completely true. stupid... hitting puberty late... thyroid problem... messing up my inner clock. but you know, i'm not one for inflexible labels that seem to aquire weightiness despite themselves. like names. everyone (well not everyone, but it seems like lots of people around me) seems to put great weight into naming their inanimate objects, like computers or cars or genitalia or boobs. i think i would be quite frightened to think of myself carrying two small people on my chest all day forever. i can sort of understand the penis naming cause i haver heard many an account of how it has a mind of its own. but computers and cars? thats just giving them too much credit. i wouldn't like to think a machine that crashes more than me on a bike is an equal. sure its malicious and sometimes i'll call it a fucker, but its a fucking peice of plastic.
anyway, i've been having trouble with even more basic things recently, like calling myself a woman/girl/female/carbon-based life form containing ovaries. i don't completely identify with my gender alot. but i don't completely not identify with it either. there are many times i will observe a group of girls doing their typical girly thing and i'll think "god i'm glad i'm not a woman... oh wait, yes i am... fuck" and other times i too will need to revel in my estrogen for a bit. but i don't take PRIDE in being a woman. it's a fucking inconvenience a lot of the time, especially when your uterus is trying to squeeze out its own lining and taking the rest of your lower abdomen down with it. but as said in the unbearable lightness of being (and i'm paraphrasing cause the book is in the back of benns car and i'm not about to run out and get it right this second) "it seemed silly to take pride in something she had no control over". thats how i feel a lot; i'm stuck with it god fucking damn it, but that doesn't mean i'm going to do it like i'm supposed to.
i've always been known to march to the beat of my own drum (i almost said "toot to the beat of my own horn" but i decided it wouldn't actually be funny to the general public that wouldn't necessarily know i was purposefully mixing my metaphors)

in conclusion: fuck me... i'm 20...