I don't fucking beleive it. He came out, sort of, today; about me. Or another
way I could say it is he fucking outed ME today.  I could, and I DO say it that
way. I will go even further and say he's a piece of shit for doing so. What?
Why?   Because for someone who loves to give mealey mouthed lip service
about respecting people's right to tell their own stories he was pretty fucking
quick to dole out mine without my consent, 

I'm mostly mad that he's getting this chance at validation, at sharing and
confessing, at being honest with someone before I even get a friend, before I
even get to exist.  I'm not even mad about being last. I'm afraid. I'm afraid
that if he gets to talk to someone about his feelings, his fantasy, fetish or
"orientation" as he timorously puts it, that he won't need me anymore. And if
he doesnt, who will. No one knows I'm gone. If he dies. (LOL typo too good to
delete.) If he does not need me, I meant to say, then how will I go on?

Because although an arm chair psychologist might say something something about
integrating the fractured personalities in order to heal the patient... bla
blah ... thats cold comfort for this particular imaginary bitch who's
life would effectively end as collateral consequence of said healing process. 

Okay, now that that is out of my system I have to admit I'm a little excited.
I'm honestly happy for him. For us maybe even. I don't know. It's like I can 
see some possible positive outcomes here. 

Okay here's a question. What would I do if he did something weird like come out
as trans or even went as far as to transition in some way. Would she be me
then?  Or somebody else altogher? If he wasn't me then what the hell am I? What
was I all along? See why I'm worried? 

But the odds of him doing the are pretty remote from where I'm looking and I'm 
looking from inside his actual fucking brain so I would think I have a pretty
good perspective on this. Better than he does? Because that's a disturbingly
low bar. Hmpf. Shut the fuck up. Can imaginary people even have imaginary
voices in their own head? Okay that dude is too tired to be any use to me. I
can't work like this. So we're signing out. 

But not before I say, inspite of my legit fears and concerns, I'm pretty happy
with today. And she's really nice. I wonder if I'll ever get to talk to her.
How would that work anyways? Don't start thinking for a minute I want to use
his disgusting body for that. Cause that aint happening. Aparently she like to
write. I wonder. I wonder if she has the imagination or the tolerance or
suspension of disbelief sufficient to deal with me.

How would he react? He'd probably try to pretend it was.. I am.. he'd probably
downplay who I am, what I am. Cause I know I'm real. But he'd be embarrased and 
try to pass me off as a writing prompt or drama school exercise or something. Hell he'd probably rather pretend that I was a pathological projection of his own
rather than admit I'm real. Like that kind of bullshit is why I can't stand him
sometimes. Fuck. This isn't going to work. He's got her. Fucker. He doesn't 
deserve her thats for sure. And me, I'm still here. 

I'm still here.