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This is going to be pretty informal and inconsistent I’m assuming. I’m kind of just writing down things as I think of them. It might be hard to follow, but it’s more for analysis than anything. I’ve always had a problem describing myself. I have so many inconsistencies and day-by-day changes that it’s hard to pinpoint what’s me and what’s something in my brain making me act in uncharacteristic ways. Even just writing this is hard because I have no idea what to say, but I suppose that’s the point. I find it hard to describe myself in just a few parameters. And I want an outlet to at least ponder who and what I am.

I’m Sheeb and Deonn and Juno and Wolfe and a wolfboygirldog at my simplest. It’s the easiest way to describe myself, and the hardest thing to grasp for others. I’m not sure if I like that or not. It makes sense to me but I don’t know how to explain it to anyone else. If you get it, you get it, I guess.

I kind of want it to be figured out, for someone to understand what I mean when I describe my identities. I want to be figured out. But I hate the idea that someone could figure me out. It makes me feel vulnerable. I feel safe knowing that even I don’t know myself. But that in and of itself has its anxieties. A constant feeling of misplacement no matter where I try to fit myself in. Putting a square peg in a round hole. I’ll never be one of the boys, I’ll never be one of the girls, I’ll never feel comfort in my body for long, I’ll never feel comfort around the people I want to care about me, knowing that if I told them who I see myself as, I’d be inwardly outcast. I’m grateful for the people in my life that I can be myself around, whoever myself is.

No matter what I do I feel like a liar. Every bit of my personality feels fake. I change so much and I’m so inconsistent. I feel like a product of my environment on a day-by-day basis and I can’t pinpoint it. Even now these words feel like someone else’s, like I’m taking them from something I read earlier. Nothing about me feels original. I feel like a paradox just waiting to be disproven.

My paradox of a body always feels so wrong. No matter what I do to it, it’s as if there’s a pressure I need to release by cutting a piece of me open. This is rather morbid, but I want nothing more than to peel off my skin, muscles, take out my organs, and run them all under some water. Maybe put them in the washing machine while I sit in the bath as a pile of bones. I don’t necessarily feel impure, but unclean in the realest sense of the world. No matter what I do I always feel as if I can’t get entirely clean. If I could get entirely clean I wonder if I could see the purest essence of myself. Untainted and on display. Raw.

I guess admitting this to myself gives me some peace of mind. Comfort in admitting discomfort, or something. The times I can be open with myself are always welcome, even if I don’t fully believe they come from the heart. I hope one day I can be sure all of this is coming from me and not a mishmash of old memories I’m mistaking for my own thoughts and feelings.

I guess that’s Sheeb. It’s so much more than a name to me. It’s all I really have of me. In a way, it’s the last thing I have of when I really felt like myself, whoever that was or is or will be. My pronouns are they, he, she, it, and shib -- though I primarily use they. I find more comfort in neutrality, for better or worse. I identify as otherkin -- a werewolf, and a shiba, both in past lives. And both are identities I heavily resonated with in my life, even before realizing there could be a deeper reason for the reason I resonate so heavily. And maybe the reason I feel so bad in my own skin -- unrelated to gender of course. I guess a lot of things contribute to that feeling of my body not being my own -- or at least not the body I was meant to be in.

My sexuality is a bit of an enigma. It’s easy to say I’m queer or bisexual or poly and call it a day, but that doesn’t feel right. There’s a sense of nuance that doesn’t really feel present in any sexuality I’ve found myself aligning with, in terms of sex and romance. So I simplify it further by simply being sheebsexual. Sheeb likes what shib likes even if it changes every single day and that’s all there is to it. It’s nice to have something that fits me and only me, but there’s that loneliness again of the square peg in a round hole. No one understands me but me. I’ll have to figure out if this is what I want or not. I’ll update this when I figure that out, most likely.

That’s what I know of myself, for now at least. I’m hoping that will change. Hopefully this didn’t dissuade anyone too much. I’m not always this introspective on topics like this, but I do like over analyzing things, if that’s something you’re into. Despite everything, I do really want to get to know people and make some friends, so feel free to message me anywhere just to talk. Sorry if I’m awkward or seem disinterested -- it’s the autism. Hope you enjoyed this little ramble at least :]