Occulta puella

I spent last night crying which was not an unusual thing recently, yet I have to say it has become more and more commonplace as I age. At gone eighty-nine it seems now to be two or three times a week and each time it lasts for hours now rather than the twenty minutes or half an hour at most that occurred when I was a youngster in my seventies. In my sixties, ten minutes was usual. To be honest, I’ll be more than glad when it’s all over, for I have no fear of death, it’s life I can’t cope with.

Lost opportunities, I admit probably my fault due to a lack of courage; failure to respond to those who, looking back, would certainly have at least tried to understand, again my fault. Looking back there were so many who reached out to me, but the world I lived in being what it was I was unable to accept the honesty of their genuine offers of help and by the time I had realised the realities of their concerns for me I’d attended their obsequies. Yes I was and am a coward, but perhaps in my defence I can say given the way life had treated me at least that had kept me alive, though God alone knows why that was of any value to me. I certainly don’t. I’m crying now and though I know why I can not find it in me to put the reason to paper. Despite those who would call me friend, I’ve been alone all my life as far back as I can remember, which is back to three or four years of age, and I shall die alone, soon I hope. All my life I have suffered the God given indignity of being female with a male body. I hope that one day God burns in Hell for what is way beyond war crimes.

To those who helped I give my blessing.
To the rest, may you one day receive what you deserve,
On my deathbed, alone as always,

Occulta puella. [Hidden Girl]