Dije

I really hate being like this. Every second I'm not making myself busy with something else, I'm thinking about killing myself. Most of the time I have faith in myself but that only makes it hurt even more when I come back down to reality. It's like I take the blindfold off and realize what a piece of shit I am. It's not that I've done anything wrong, I don't think. It's more like... why? Why would anyone want to be around me? I can't help but wonder. I don't understand. I can't understand. I've tried. I don't get it. If I met someone like me, I'd hate them. I'd want them to jump in front of a train... which checks out. At least that much is consistent. But otherwise I'm always angry at myself. More like disgusted, I guess. A bunch of contradictions. Of talking and talking and talking and I get sick of myself so quickly... I get sick, I get sick. I'm so full of it. I get sick of listening to myself lie. I don't... actually lie. I just say stuff. I'm always talking. I can't ever stay quiet. I just talk. And I roll with whatever comes out. I don't care about who I am when all I'll ever be is disgusting. It extends beyond my physical appearance... there's something rotten here, and I can't stand it. It's rotten. I'm rotten. I talk so much but I can't put it into words at all. Like... I'm never gonna be a worthy person. Worthy of what, I don't care. I already got started all wrong. I'm all wrong. I'm flesh and bone shoved together carelessly. Disassemble me. Put me back together right. Autopsy table reconstruct me fix me up I can't have it until the end I miss it It's getting harder and harder to act like I don't wanna blow my fucking brains out every other hour. I'm trying to make things, but I'm so hollow it's like I can't put my all into it. There's nothing. Plainly put, there's nothing... there's nothing. When I think of something I want to make, I think about how I'm so full of it. How I'm a fake. Faking what, I don't know. Faking that I know what I'm doing. That I think I'm good enough? That I think anything about me is good? Usually I can at least say that I like the things I make, even if I don't won't can't like myself, but when I think about it really I feel like they're rotten too. Boring. Lame. Mediocre. That's it. That's it. Mediocre. I'm so scared of it. I've never been good at anything but thinking and then tricking others into believing that I'm good enough... mediocre. It's the worst thing I can imagine. Of course. Yeah. I feel like a breath that's been held for years just waiting to exhale. I'm gonna explode. I'll keep holding it in. Not like I have a choice. Breathe in breathe out I can't really talk about it, can I? There's no point. I don't understand what the point would be... when it's about an external situation, I love to complain. It feels nice. An exhale. But when it's something like this, I don't know... talking doesn't help anything. It's almost laughable in a way. I've been in therapy for years but I've never spoken about this. I only found out recently, to be fair, but I'm still not gonna mention it. I just don't see the point. It's not something that's bothering me, it's my being. Me. My own brain. Soul. Whatever... it's not something I can so easily get rid of. Rotten at an existential level, maybe. Inescapable. Final. Fatal. All-encompassing. Omnipotent. Yes. All-powerful. Inescapable. It's unbearable. I know what the answer is. I'd even get to choose. Carbon monoxide. A fire. Hanging. Shotgun. Jump. Slit. Stab. Moving train. Drink. Poison. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. I want to I need to I want to I want to I want to I don't know how I'm still going ahh ahhh I'm doing my best right? My mediocre best. I just want to fucking kill myself is that truly so much to ask for? I didn't ask to be born. I didn't want to be me. I didn't want to be at all. I want to be erased. Wouldn't that be nice? Deleted. Gone. Scrubbed. Purged from reality's database. One row less. Free up space for someone that's gonna use it properly... ha ha ahh ahh. I don't know how much longer I can hang on. As long as it takes. To what? I don't know. The timing will never be right. Everyone talks about choosing happiness, prioritizing yourself, but what if you don't like my answer? I've got my fucking answer. Shotgun to the face. I've had it for years. I know the answer. I know. I always know. I'm always right. I'm always right. Don't doubt me. I've got all the answers. I'm all wrong inside, but let me tell you, I'll give you the answer. I'm good. I'm good. I don't need to be told. I'm good. I'm perfect. I'm the best. I'm the smartest person in the room. Lock me inside. Let me sort it out. Yes. Carbon monoxide. Lock me inside. Let me go. Let me out. Give me the answer. I know already. Ahhh. It's gonna feel so good. It's gonna feel so, so fucking good once I finally get it. What I want. What I've wanted. Yes. Yes. Please. Please. Fucking kill me. Delete me. Kill me. Let me do it. Let me die. Let me go out. Let go of me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to keep being myself. Who cares? There's no other choice. There is no other answer. So give me what I want. Why not? Isn't it wrong for me to keep going? I want to hang myself, would it really be so wrong if I did that? Just the fact that I'm still alive should be seen as attention seeking. It's annoying, right? So, kill me. Should I do something wrong? If everyone thought I was bad, would they let go of me? High and mighty hypocritical piece of shit full of myself contradictory know it all dramatic not interesting pretentious mediocre suicidal big headed fucking failure keep hanging on ha ha ha I'll get there someday I know it's gonna be the happiest day of my rotten piece of shit existence yes yes let me die let me die I don't want anything else I'll never achieve anything pull me from the root leave no trace delete me don't you think I'm annoying? I'm annoying, right? Wouldn't it be better if I was gone? So there's no issue. If I'm unbearable and no one wants me around, there's no issue. But I don't know how to get there. Even at this, I'm useless. In theory, "in theory", shut up, shut up, no one wants to hear it. But I've got my answer. Oh, I've HAD my answer. Yes. You'll know my answer. You'll know it when you see it. I'll show you.

I find myself immature. What's wrong? Nothing's wrong. What's wrong? Nothing, nothing's wrong. I listen to depressing music and think depressed thoughts, but that's not my diagnosis. My diagnosis. I've been trying to get it, an autism diagnosis. My psychiatrist has to agree. Both my therapists are in agreement, but he's got the final say. I'm seeing him early march. Are months proper nouns? Ahhh. Should I date these? I don't remember. Mhm. I'm better. I'm a shit writer. Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I fantasize a lot, about being good at things. Problem is, I spend too much time fantasizing, so I never become good at anything. This is journaling, right? Yeah. I remember being a kid and wanting to journal because people said it was good for you, and I thought wow, I'd be so interesting, keeping a journal, but I never had anything to say. Plus, I was scared of my sister finding it. My sister. She's not a bad person. I kinda am, though. She's the one with depression. She stresses me out. She loves me, I know. I'm not sure I'm good at loving people. I just don't care. I have to make myself, make myself care. But my sister, right, she has depression, she's really sensitive, my sister. She bosses me around, treats me like I'm still 12. If I don't do whatever she says, she gets huffy, tells me to go fuck myself. My brain's not good at dealing with her. Nooo good at all. My family loves me, but they don't respect me. Isn't that funny? I'm no good at loving, but I'm good at respecting. The basics. I guess they mostly do, though maybe I just make myself believe that. Doesn't matter. The problem is, the real problem that is, that NO has never been a complete sentence in my life. Well, my home life, really. Whenever I said NO, there was pushback. There still is. It's hard when you realize. No privacy, no right to make decisions, no respect for who you are, it's a shit childhood. Can't say anything, though. I've been happier than ever for the past 3 years or so. Everyone spoils "me", I do well at school, I'm always joking around, I'm just kinda grumpy sometimes. Yeah, that's who I am. To them, that's who I am. No sense in talking about it. There's no answer, and it'd make things worse, and I'm just not interested. NO is a complete sentence. I try to remember that, I do. Anyways, the only one who knows how miserable I am is my best friend. They're very sweet. My real life friends don't know, either, but I'd be open to let them in a bit, maybe. I do feel bad for venting at my friend so much, I guess that's why I'm here. It just feels good, to talk about it freely and have them know that no, I'm not a crying mess, I don't really need to be told "I'm sorry" or anything like that. Feels good to say "I want to kill myself", and have it be a Tuesday. Weekdays ARE proper nouns in english, right? I think that's how it went. I love my friend. I'm good at that one, yeah, maybe a little too good. What was it? Killing myself, they know I'm not always desperate, that it's just a topic of discussion, I just hope it doesn't freak them out too much. They're super smart about this stuff, though, so I hope they'd tell me if they'd rather not hear about it so much... but maybe that's difficult, telling your suicidal friend not to talk about it so much. If you're reading this, just let me know, okay? I run my mouth a lot, I know, but I'll try. Don't worry about it, yeah? I'm not sure I want them reading this, actually, it's kinda edgy and pathetic. Mhm. Hey, leave now, stop reading, go in your spaceship, this is for human eyes only, okay? Okay. Well, the problem here is, the problem with becoming close to someone for me is that I can't do anything right. I just can't. I fear I might never be normal. It's just ridiculous. It makes me feel pathetic just to say it, because it makes me feel insane not in a way I'm used to. I'm jealous. I get jealous. I've told them that if I had a girlfriend, I'd get unreasonably jealous, which is true, but also true for them to a lesser degree. In either case, I'm not gonna try and control anyone, what right do I have? Separate people. But it's ridiculous, really, when they talk about their other friends, about their real-life best friend, I can't help but feel it. It's so odd. One time we were talking, and they'd go away for a bit, to watch a mutual friend stream a game. Sounds like teen business, haha. I'm not super close with him, that friend, even though I like him, because I'm awkward. Well, they'd hang out, and the first time they mentioned it, they didn't say it was him, just mentioned an inside joke from their chats. And my reaction, it was so stupid, almost unfathomably stupid. We kept talking like normal, but I was a mess. I'll admit it: I was jealous. That's what I meant, see? Ridiculous... just who does that? Ahhh. Haha. It just makes me hate myself even more. But yeah, when they mention their other friends, or other people they talk to, I get this weird feeling, something in my head... what is it? I want to be their best friend. Their very best friend. Maybe it's me being competitive or something. Not that it makes a difference. But something happens, in my body, where I should be the best friend they've ever had. I get happy when they praise me. Pathetic, but who cares, it's true. Ahhh. I don't like it, no, I don't like it! Haha. I know something's wrong. With me, yeah. It's this feeling... something inside my body. Something heavy, like I need an itch scratched in real time. It feels like blunt force to the chest, the stomach, some phantom hit. And it's awful, 'cause no one's gonna hit me. I feel it when I scare myself. Who would I be, if things had been different? No one good. I know at least that much. I'm the best version of me there is. If I were a bit more entitled, less thoughtful, less aware, I don't doubt I would've hurt others by now. I'm not ashamed to say it. It's just a fact. I get why people are scared to admit to it, but I know I've got the potential to be a veeery bad, no good person. No good, no good at all. Where was I? This feeling. Something's wrong. I felt it when I looked at pictures of dead bodies. Their faces, I'd stare at their faces, 4 AM on a school night, I'm staring at dead women's faces, because they mostly uploaded women, as you do, and then at school the next day I'm singing along, bored outta my mind during mass. I'd look at those seedy sites, they're probably still around, where you could watch the security camera footage of random people's homes. I watched families hang out in their living room, some guy lecturing his cat, a woman sleeping, a messy room... I stopped, because I got that feeling. I can't help but be annoyed by it somewhat. If I didn't have morals, I would be a grade A pervert by now, and maybe then my writing would be more interesting. Not better, though. You get the gist. The most intense intance was a crush I had, back in 2023, during my third and last semester at that particular university, where I failed all my classes like never before and made no friends whatsoever. During the third semester, we had some stupid class... something about project planning, maybe, I don't remember. I wasn't paying attention to the teacher, I was looking at her instead, my crush. She was younger than me, by a year. During our first class, we sat at the same table, and she asked to be friends, since we had a few classes together (which was news to me then). So she asked for my number. I was so happy. I got really excited. I tried not to let it show. I gave it to her, and stood right there, while people were leaving to go home, waiting for her to save it. It took her a while. I didn't get it, at the time. I didn't wanna be rude, so I just stood quietly, waiting for her to send me a confirmation text or something, I don't know. She already had friends, and they were standing there too, waiting for her. I didn't pay them any attention, but now I'm pretty sure they were watching us. Though maybe I'm paranoid. Then I got nervous and asked if she'd saved it, and she nodded and said Oh, yeah! and sent me a cat sticker. And I nodded and said okay, and went out the classroom, because suddenly I felt her friends staring and laughing, and it felt like they were laughing at me. Three years later, I'm pretty sure they dared her to talk to me, something I thought would never happen again after high school, but you never know. Some people just stay like that, maybe. Anyways, I pretended to do stuff on my phone until she and her friends left, and then I headed home. I preferred to take the bus, but had the option to take the metro, and then the bus. This time I wasn't so sure. I followed them. Her friends went to a bus stop out of our way. She went down into the station. I thought of it, I really did. Ahhh. I thought of it. But I didn't do it. See? This is why you need to have a sense of shame. Haha. Shame. I didn't follow her, because I got that feeling. That feeling that means there's something wrong with me. I went and took the bus like I did every day. When I got home, I found her full name on the... what's it called? Whatever, the student list. Her name was Dani. She had an odd second surname. I remember her first surname. I looked her up on Facebook; nothing. Figures. Then I looked her up on this one site that tells you someone's... I really have no clue what it's called in english. Well, it's the number that'll be on your ID, and on your home registry, and on your bank account... that one. The site's public knowledge, though. Not some secret hacker shit or anything like that. See, I'm mediocre at everything. No exceptions. Besides that number, it also said the part of town(?) she's from. Not the street. Anyways, I don't remember it. I went on Google Maps for a bit and thought about what kinda house she'd live in. The only reason I know she's a year younger than me is that number. It changes based on your birth date. I never spoke to her. Never texted. I'd go to class and stare at the back of her head, and then think about following her home. I don't even know what for, I just wanted to have her address. But it felt wrong. I felt like an addict asking for just a taste. What good would it do me? What use would I have for it? I couldn't think of anything. I just wanted to know. At the same time, I felt it. Something inside me telling me to back off. You're being a creep. Yeah, yeah, I know. Okay. Luckily, I dropped out soon after.

Decided to make this a dedicated journaling page, so I changed up the css a bit. Guess you could say I've been working on myself... ha ha. Last night my friend told me it's easier to do most stuff with flex containers, so I tried it, and (of course) they were right. I hung out with two of my real life friends today, M and V. We were at V's house. She was high. She talked a ton, about her workplace, her boyfriend, etc, and me and M just listened for the most part. I guess it sounds bad from the outside, but that's just what we do. Just ramble. No one minds. It's comfortable. I'm happy for V. I respect her a lot. She's an extremely hard worker, often at the expense of her own health, and it took her getting paid the same as her lazy coworkers to realize that her efforts were being wasted. She works in retail, and did tons of extra hours for the holiday season, hoping to get more pay. But then she took a break during January, and wouldn't you know it, shit's set up so that this 11 day break means she only worked 20 days in December. So, no extra pay. Sounds illegal, but I may have misunderstood her explanation. They paid her the same as her coworkers who did almost no work, and it really hit her hard. She often has physical reactions to stress... yeah, you can imagine. A positive came out of it, though: she had an epiphany of sorts. That she's young, this job won't be her last. She said she sat next to an old lady on the bus, and wondered if the lady wanted to be young again. To have a do-over. I guess that's when it hit her, the fact she can do anything she sets her mind to. It's now. Right now. I had something like that, too, back in December. I'd just done a presentation for my last grade of the semester, and was taking the bus back home, the long way 'round. On a summer afternoon during golden hour, I stepped out of school and into the supermarket. I got a 1L bottle of this aloe vera drink I like, and a chocolate bar, though maybe it was two. I took the bus, because the day was warm and windy, and I was wearing my favorite jacket, it was all too nice to take the metro. I remember the wind messing up my hair while I waited for the bus. I caught a glimpse of myself on a car window, and put my hoodie up. It really looked like I'd just woken up. At the time, I don't know, I just knew I was at the cusp of something. I knew that this, this point in my life is where I have to make it pivot, do something for things to change. I'll think about this moment forever. I got on the bus, which was quite empty, and got a window seat. Rode an hour home while listening to music and thinking to myself: "Now. Only now. You'll remember this. Don't go back on it, don't. Your life will begin soon", and while I thought this, I felt something in my throat. In that moment, I felt as if the sky had cleared, as if I was lighter, untethered, I felt that the world was waiting for me. Not to do anything grand, but to inhabit it. To live however I wanted to live. I could do anything. I just had to do it. Anything I want, I can make happen. I'd always thought this way, that everything is possible, there's always a way. No matter how unlikely, anything can happen. I hadn't internalized it 'til that exact moment, though. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't scared, or depressed, or angry, or miserable. I was relieved. Calm. I knew then that nothing lasts forever, including my current state. I just needed to change it. Nothing will change until I make it. It was hope. Pure hope growing in my chest, bubbling up my throat, making me smile to myself as I looked out the window at the trees, the people, the houses lining the streets. Hope. I'd always resented it, found myself stupid for feeling it. I'd think, if I didn't have hope, I would've killed myself years ago, but I still hope for something better, I'm so stupid. That's what I thought at 12, 17, 21. But in that moment, hope wasn't an obstacle. It just was. Suddenly, I saw a way out that didn't involve hurting myself. It was warm and windy, and my mouth was filled with sugar, and I finally realized that my life didn't have to end where it started. I can move on. I can move out. My life can start. I can still start it, my very own life, where I don't feel chained to anyone or anything. My own life. It makes me wanna cry. Me, independent. Me, living alone. Having privacy. Freedom. Solitude. How good it sounds. Maybe it'll take years. It probably won't start 'til I'm at least 27, but it will. It will. That afternoon, I decided on three things: one, I'd become the excelent student everyone thinks I am; two, I would come out to my dad before the new year started; and three, I will begin the new year by changing my legal name. Two are in progress, the other went well. My heart was hammering when I told him. The whole time, I was thinking of a coin flip. It's a yes/no, a two-road split. Whatever happens, happens, right? He was gonna find out eventually anyways. I was tired of waiting for someone to push me into it, for someone to get me to make the first step towards living. Coming out. Hahh. I'm actually shocked he's using my name. He corrects himself, even. I thought he'd have a problem with it because of his support for certain... politicians, but I guess not. It's weird. I feel like I'm being pushed forward. Everything tells me I can do it. Nothing is as impossible as it seems. I can do it. Finish my degree, transition, get a job, move out, meet someone. Maybe not in that order. Hearing my name all the time has been crazy... maybe, just maybe, I have a shot. I have a shot at living my own life as myself. Isn't that wonderful? So many people don't get to. So many people don't even realize the privilege they have. I'm gonna go pick up my brand new, corrected ID at the registry once it's ready, then I'm gonna follow up with my therapist on a consultation for HRT, and until I get on hormones, I'll just have to keep trying. Holding onto it, that vision. Me, living alone, being who I really am, being free. It's gonna be good. It's gonna happen. I know it will, I know it will. I have to believe it will.

Took our dog to the groomer today. It was close to my sister's friend's (P) place, so we waited there. It was so loud. I really like P. She's funny and cares for my sister a lot. She lives with her boyfriend, who's the kinda guy that's just happy to be there really. I like him too. He injured his neck in a car accident so he's had a cast around it for a while now. His dad was there, too, as well as a family friend that my sister and P don't really like, for reasons that have been disclosed to me, yet already forgotten. We stayed and waited for over 2 hrs. I was honestly pretty bored. They got high and watched TV, but the volume was so loud you had to yell if you wanted to say anything. I really can't handle loud households like that, but I didn't feel like going home, either. Just inconvenient. The dog groomer needed extra time to try and get to my dog's paws and tails, and ultimately said she just couldn't get her to cooperate, which checks out. She's really cranky when you touch her paws or tail. At least she was able to cut her hair, which is what we were really there for. She's super fluffy and we're leaving for two weeks, my sister for one, so it was either cut her hair now or let her suffer in the heat. So that's that. There's this cat that we've been taking care of. Soft launching an adoption, one might say. He was our neighbor's, but that guy died a few months back, so the cat's been living on prayers and kindness, I guess. He hangs out here now, on the front yard. My dog only barked at him the first time, but now neither of them really care. It's pretty funny. We thought his name was Tocotoco, but my dad, who was the dead man's friend, says Tocotoco was the old cat, one that died a while back. Our cat's the new one. I've already got a name for him, though no one else likes it. I'm naming him Solomon, like King Solomon, because I think it's funny, and I often think of how he cut that baby in half. I had a little book of Bible stories as a kid and I'd read it a ton. I remember Samson, and Moises, and King Solomon. All BC. I hope they let me name him Solomon. My sister won't like any of my suggestions, though, so I'll have to insist a ton... I hope he's still hanging out here when we get back from the south. It's a 6-7 hr bus drive, and we leave at midnight. I'm probably gonna watch a movie or two on the way there. It's usually 7 to 8 hrs during the day, though. My grandpa's respiratory illness has been getting worse lately, and my aunt and her son are gonna be staying there too, since their place's getting renovated. It seems to be going pretty well, though. Construction workers are amazing. It might get a little hectic at my grandparents' house cause she's got her furniture there, but that side of the family, my mom's side, is pretty chill overall. Plus it's a sleepy, maybe not sleepy? A very quiet town they live in. Feels like the population is mostly older folk, though the same could be said for our place here. My grandma's deaf. Not fully, though. She can still hear plenty well with her, what's it called? Her hearing aid. My cousin's 4 years younger than me. I get pretty jealous of him sometimes, cause he gets to have his own room, privacy, hobbies, etc. Plus he's already way taller than me. That's the worst part. Ha ha ha. My aunt got him a guitar as a present last year. He's such a good kid. I'm happy for him. I'm not good at interacting with any of my cousins, though, even though everyone on my mom's side is really nice. Wildfires recently hit the region they're in, and he was volunteering at one of those, uh, those events where they call for people to deliver food and other necessities. Maybe I'll get to use the upstairs room this year. It's super dusty and full of trinkets, old stuff. But I really love it. I went and snooped around last year, found a bunch of VHS tapes. We have a VHS player here at home, but it doesn't work. My dad's always down when I talk about repairing our old players or getting a new VHS player, though we haven't bought anything yet. I really like old radios. He gave me his walkman. He only used it once. My aunt gave it to him. It feels great to use. I got two CDs: Danzig 4 by Danzig, and Broken by NIN. Broken might be my favorite album ever... maybe. There's so many good ones. Hahh. I'm just rambling. Haven't done much today besides be bored. On the agenda: plan out gift VN, add stories, mess around with book and coolweb's mobile versions. Maybe I'll watch a movie? Maybe I won't get anything done. Occupational therapy tomorrow, pharmacy on Friday morning, leaving on Friday night. I'll definitely take my laptop, though.

Grandparents' place has not been boring in the slightest. I've been doing shit all week. Had only a couple days with no activities, but otherwise I've been to the mall, the beach, aunt's place near the forest (twice now), and... Guess it doesn't sound like much, but I'm low energy, and I feel completely spent. On top of that, I should be getting my period soon. Fuck me, right? Aunt F's place has a hot tub, a huge yard, path to the valley below... it's quite far into a dirt road. We saw wild rabbits on the way back, and my other aunt (V) yelled when she almost hit one. I had fun today. We went over there to hang out and eat grilled meat. My favorite is pork ribs. Before eating, though, I went for a walk to see the valley with my older sister and younger cousin, who is a boy scout. He likes horror movies as well, and so does his mom (the one who almost hit the rabbit, V). So I kept joking about there being a man there with us. We saw two horses and they were by far the scariest, though. I hope I never piss one off. Ha ha. Well, the valley was very pretty and smelled very much like herbal tea. We took the wrong path on the way back, so we had to go uphill twice. I was gasping and had to sit down to breathe properly when we got back to the house. I keep taking Ls over here. Just yesterday I almost died at sea a couple hundred times and started flailing and screaming when a wasp started circling my snack. Well, it happens. I'm always just saying some bullshit honestly. Maybe everything happens to me because the universe wants to humble me? Not sure it's working. Ha ha. Aunt F's relative kept cracking jokes after we ate. Him and his wife treated me like a guy immediately. We'd never met before, so it made me happy to pass. I'm sure aunt F and uncle L, who is the one I am related to by blood, plus aunt V and my cousin S all noticed, but no one called it out. I'm glad they didn't. I haven't told them. I feel like it's obvious, though. It's hard. I wish I didn't care. I wish I didn't have fun today. F's relative told us about a path that takes you down to a lagoon. He spoke so seriously, it was really funny when he'd go Yeah the sights are beautiful but you gotta watch out or else the ghouls are gonna get you. All in the same tone. He kept adding creatures to it. And don't get me started on the live vines! And the cuero! ... Hint: it's a local legend. Local to the country, really. Ha ha. He said he was sad that his sons bailed on him today, cause they were supposed to go down there together, but they backed out. Almost immediately someone -probably my mom- said me, my sister, and my cousin would be down to go with him. Sure, my sister and cousin would, but I'm pretty sure I'll die trying. I'm not built like that. You walk down there for either twenty minutes or an hour (he would switch between the two), and then you cross a river via log, and then you have to do this and that... I'm not thrilled. I'm built for watching movies and being sad online and the ocassional fun adventure, but it sounds like too fun of an adventure for me to handle. Point is, we made plans for tomorrow. This uncle treats me like a guy. He doesn't know I'm trans. My cousin thinks I'm a girl, and so does aunt F. And the rest of them, really. It's really making me feel like shit, the fact I have to take this step. That I have to tell people who I am and just pray they won't hate me for it. I hate being trans with all my being. I don't hate myself for it, I have other reasons for that. But I hate that my life will start so late. I hate that I am different. I hate that I have to take all these extra steps, that I have to cry my fucking eyes out from anxiety when I think about the future, about my body being a liability, about my existence being wrong, while cis people never even have to question it. They just are. They are ALLOWED to occupy their place here, to exist without being questioned. Me, I'm a fucking freak with no real right to basic human decency all because someone up there fucked up while making me. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe I sucked so bad in a past life that they decided to make me trans in this one. I honestly don't care. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm tired of pretending I'm happy with the hand I was dealt. I'm not. I'm fucking miserable. I want to kill myself. I'm suicidal. But I'm funny, and I do well in school, and I'm only ever a little grumpy and overdramatic, so how could that be? Being comic relief is not for the faint of heart. I honestly don't see the point sometimes. All this work, all this suffering just to exist the way I was meant to, and for what? I know it's gonna get better, I just don't know if it'll ever be worth it. Why do I have to go through this? Why me? Why was I born like this? Why couldn't I be avoided? Christ. Hope feels like blindfolding myself so I can keep giving those who love me what they want. Sometimes it gets to the point where I find it selfish of them to love me. They want me around, but what about me? What about what I want? What I want is to blow my fucking brains out. But I put myself second, so the choice is clear. It's almost comical how pathetic I am. I let people walk all over me because I know I don't deserve to be respected. If I did, I wouldn't have to fight for it. Blah blah fucking blah. I hate being trans! I hate it! I find no joy in it. Zero. I find no joy in my pain or my experiences. Good for those who don't go through this, but when I see them posting about how happy and proud they are about being trans, I just feel like shit because that'll never be me. I'll pass someday and people will know me for me, but I won't ever be happy that this is something I have to look forward to at all. I'm full of despair. I keep feeling like I just can't do this, but I keep going anyways. It doesn't make me resilient, it makes me weak. A coward. A pushover. An idiot. Well, I'm not going to that uncle's adventure with my sister and cousin. I'm in pain. I think of him gendering me correctly and then finding out that I'm "actually" a girl and how fucking humiliating that will be. No one gets how deeply it hurts. They can't. I'm the fucking joke. I'm cheating everyone. I hate seeing people online think that it's hot to "find out" someone's trans because it's always about bodies. Isn't it exciting that this skinny boy with nape-length hair actually has soft curves and tits and a pussy? That "he" is actually just a submissive tomboy waiting for cis dick to make "him" realize. That no one takes us seriously. That our suicide rates are high for a reason. I don't want to be "found out". I don't want to deal with the shame and embarrassment. Plus, if or when it happens, I'd have to either come out on the spot or betray myself completely by saying Whoops! Yes, I'm actually a girl, the way I dress and act and talk is all just for show! I didn't know how to tell you earlier! Fucking pathetic. This is what I mean. The simplest things. This intristic part of my being means I have no right to dignity or respect in the eyes of the world. People are doing me a favor by respecting me. Some believe they're "humoring" me. It's not the norm for people like me to exist. It just isn't. Suicide, suicide. Well, I'm gonna be selfish and bail because I know that otherwise I will simply explode and make shit worse for everyone. I'll just say I have cramps. Oh, my feminine womanly cramps. Fuck off. A woman's rite of passage. Fuck you.