Don't read anything

I've got no car but i've got a fulltime job at a commerical paint warehouse & a desperate urge to run. Someday soon the chains of obligations i didn't mean to make will be released and i'll be out of town. Twidling my thumbs and shoving 5 gallons of paint into mixers every day until then. I'm thinking about Seattle.
I'm a transsexual but i no longer like saying in which direction. I didn't grow up with a gendered experience that i could tell, and everything feels like cross-dressing
Which isn't to say it feels odd, or uncanny, or however cross-dressers are received,
It's just to say i know gender presentation is, ultimately, performance. I'm a futch expressionist, a butch impressionist. I'm an imitation, not an impersonator. I remember how obsessed i was with Aristotle's Poetics and his concepts of imitation in art when i was fourteen. I wanted to apply it to personhood, our humanity, and found it's something every poet got at sooner than later.

Read this i prefer it but i also beat myself up in it

Sources that explain myself in a different way

Geryon and i from Anne Carson's Autobiography of Red have lived nearly identical lives thus far. It still overwhelms me to read it.
Dogfish by Mary Oliver