It approaches one in the morning and I have smoked weed. Whether or not I enjoy it is still a matter of some confusion on my part.

I am simultaneously very relaxed and very anxious (a condition I have decided to refer to as "relanxious.") The change in brain function, while noticeable, seems to not have impacted

I grew bored of that sentence. I am now eating cereal. It is called Captain Crunch, and it is a truly splendid thing. To think, people of this realm enjoy such an unashamedly decadent meal as this for breakfast of all things! It is a level of cultural hedonism I had not anticipated from this world but am nonetheless pleased with.

I have taken to eating one colorful pellet at a time in an attempt to ascertain whether the colors represent individual flavors or are purely for my visual benefit. I have yet to come to a satisfactory conclusion. I will eat more cereal and report back.

I am nauseated and oddly cold. A reaction to the injection? Illness? Simple stress?

The body utilizes unpleasant sensations to alert me of potential problems within itself. A useful feature, certainly. What vexes me is that it seldom offers an indication of what the problem may *be.* It makes me feel as if I am an exhausted parent standing over a wailing infant's crib. Does it need food? Sleep? A change of clothes? An extended vacation in which it lies in a field of yellow flowers?

How can it be that I feel so disconnected from something that is supposed to be such a major part of my personage? I want to love it. Care for it. I want to see it as myself. Sometimes I do! Other times, however, it feels like this separate, alien thing, holding me hostage to its needs. A living cage of frighteningly complicated wires and joints and sacs, all constantly threatening me with their fragility.

Sometimes I wish it could just take care of itself.

I have risen well before my usual hour, and the day feels full of posibility. Truly, I hate sleeping in. I am, ironically, a morning thing even if my corporeal form doesn't always agree.

Yesterday I began weekly injections of estrogen in an effort to shape the form provided for me in a manner I find more comfortable. I am grateful to The Chained Moon for this gift of physicality. However, she can be prone to small mistakes and there are aspects of this body that do not suit me. I will be charting my progress here.

I must admit I found the needle somewhat frightening. Up until this point I have been supplementing this body's lack of estrogen with pills. Less invasive, to be sure, but also cumbersome and only mildly effective. I'm sure as the results become more evident and I gain more practice I will be more confident in administering the injections. For now, however, I find myself dreading the next jab.

-Loomis the Moonthing