Ima be emo now kthx. I'm being a bit of a hypocrite here as I have in the past made fun of people for bearing their souls, so feel free to lol at the following or treat it as rubbish... cuz it is.

I often wonder if some furries don't take me seriously. I mean, the people who know me will know that I would never want to be taken seriously, as I regard life as one big joke, though I sometimes get the feeling that some things I do paint me as some sort of immature jerk. This feeling stems predominantly from the Perth furry community; The top players over here in the most isolated city on the planet are a lot older then me, and I often fear that my actions offend them to the point that I am never given a chance. Perhaps this is due to my age or my personality, but I feel that a few of the furries here are almost instantly dismissive of me. I always try to make a good first impression on everyone I meet, but that is very difficult in a textual medium, and I cant help but think I've been denied the privilege altogether. I do not know. I hope I don't need to say that I will never perform any malevolent action. Perhaps this is because I've never really been hurt, but I treat almost everyone I meet as a friend the instant I see them, and continue to do so until they give me a reason not to. In my own fucked up little mind I call this the 'innocent until proven guilty' method of social communication. From a more esoteric viewpoint I would regard myself as mentally democratic; I give everything and everyone a chance to surprise me, and have never felt the need to disallow myself from experiencing any part of the world that is weird or unfamiliar. This is one of the reasons why I got into the furry fandom. The reason I bring it up is that I seem to be alone in my democratic system of living. To anyone who reads this: am I wrong? If you were to write a mental synopsis on yourself, what would it entail?

I'm going off on a bit of a tangent here. I guess what I want to say, not that any of the people I have in mind will read this, is that I am sorry. It is probably my general ignorance that I am being sorry for. It was probably a huge mistake to go to a meet as early as I did before maturing and becoming more knowledgeable about the furry community. At PFG, not that I showed it, but I was overwhelmed with happiness; I was in the company of people who were so comfortable with themselves as people that they had the mental power to transform themselves within their own minds into what they truly wanted to be. I was wondering around, with my con badge that said 'Feral English' as a joke, with a huge grin on my face, laughing every so often as the activities persisted. When the fursuits started to come out, I was rolling on the floor. I meant no harm, but it just occurred to me the other day that my over-zealousness and general attitude on the night was probably misconstrued as extraordinarily rude. I want to say right now, that I have an inherent respect for every furry on this entire planet, even the ones who are doing it for the lulz, as they have the mental ability to show the world who they really and truly are. I envy every last one of them.

The second reason I became involved with furries is that I get a weird satisfaction out of doing things that most other people would never, ever do. I am not offended by people who would look down on me or would persecute me for doing strange things because I am fully aware that what I am doing is out of the ordinary. I would LOVE to feel like a performance piece; to be observed as a curiosity and laughed at without feeling embarrassed or belittled. I would love to be different to that great of an extent but... for some reason I cant. I don't know why. Maybe the instinctual force that tells all of us to stay with the herd, to embrace the norm is just too strong. It tugs at me every day, telling me to do what everyone else is doing. 'don't look at people on the street' it sometimes tells me. 'keep your eyes to yourself on the train' and I listen to it, hearing nullified by headphones and sight occupied by a book. Why? Am I afraid of offending someone? Is my instinctual voice of self preservation so overwhelming that it completely prohibits me from stepping outside of my comfort zone? I envy people who have found a way to silence that voice inside themselves that tells them to be normal and allow themselves to be completely free, to transform themselves into whoever or whatever they want to be. Maybe I'm just lazy, I don't know, but I always manage to find a way out of improving myself. I often sit at my computer, carefully aiming at an enemy's head through the scope of a 50. caliber sniper rifle and think to myself 'man, right now I could be drawing or studying or networking with people I like', but I very rarely do. Am I lazy? Is the cheap thrill of scoring a kill against another human being in an online game really that much of an addiction? Or do I deep down have such little faith in myself that I have becone subconsciously self-destructive? I still don't fully know what I want to do professionally. Though I guess very few people really do. I guess few people really know who they are. I guess few people can really embrace who they really are and have the courage to show the world and damn the consequences. I envy those few.

There is a third, and final reason I became a furry, ignoring the obvious love of animals. I have never told anyone this in real life.

For a long time now, even before I came out, I have had this reoccurring dream. The way I got to sleep was to design characters and stories in my head, conceptualize plots and worlds in their entirety. My favorite reoccurring character was always a dinosaur named Gyr. He was sort of a small velociraptor, if velociraptors actually did look like they do in Jurassic Park. Gyr would be in all of my stories; he started off as a blue dragon but eventually evolved into a velociraptor. The dream started one night, after I was imagining this story:

A man named Tom (coughauthorinsertioncough), living in a rural Australian area is awoken one night to a huge crash in the distance. He travels towards the source in a battered up jeep where he finds an alien spaceship crash landed. Inside is a bruised and bleeding Gyr, unconscious, whom Tom eagerly takes home with him to patch up, curious of the universe that he would quite possibly never see.

The dream starts off with Gyr sleeping in the same bed as Tom (me), quite possibly for warmth. In the middle of the night, Gyr wakes me up and quite bluntly asks me 'can we have sex?'

Dream me was quite obviously a little dumbfounded by this question. 'no, we cant' I say.

'why not?' Gyr responds.

I think about this question for a while, not because I am unsure of a reason not to, but because I am unsure of a way to explain such a reason to a life-form completely ignorant of earth social convention.

'because you are not human, you are a dinosaur.' I finally say.

'how does that prohibit us from having sex?' he responds.

'it is bestiality.' I say. 'it is illegal.'

'but we are both consenting, how is that illegal?'

My idea shot down, I quickly realize that I am trying to explain adult themes to practically a minor. I try to think of other reasons not to have sex.

'we are both males' I say.

Again, Gyr responds 'how does THAT prohibit us from having sex?'

Unable to think of a reason, I quickly move on to the next one.

'I am not attracted to you, Gyr.' I say, secure in my belief that this is a bulletproof comeback.

'Just pretend I am somebody else then.' says Gyr.

Growing a little concerned, I give one final, dismissive statement.

'I just can't, Gyr, it would be to weird.'

With that, Gyr looks me straight in the eyes and says 'why would you ever want to be normal?'

And then we have sex.

And it is good.