I have been actively suicidal for most of my life. Seven times I have tried to die and it made everyone I loved want to never speak to me again.
There is no doubt in my mind that my life will end in suicide, at best before I turn 50, but perhaps later this year. It all depends on how much more rejection, struggle, and stress I can survive from the world as it seems to be falling apart around us.
My dreams in life have always been big. I work hard every day to try to earn the love of the greater collective of people. It never really happens. People tell me to kill myself rather often, mostly because I'm transgender. I try to pass as much as I can for my own comfort and to avoid discrimination from others. I've accepted that transgender people will never be accepted in the world, unless nobody can tell that you are, maybe.
Truthfully, though, I have PTSD from 13 inpatient stays in psyche wards over a course of a decade. Some of those experiences were worse than others, but they were all horrid. Sometimes they isolated me for a long time and did other things that I am too ashamed to type. To this day I cannot trust other people, and not even just because of what's happened in those institutions, but people in general have been so cruel throughout my life that I hide away and never want to leave bed.
Depression and anxiety, along with a constant burden of stress from the unmet need of being loved and accepted by others, drives me to try to use the creative arts and looking pretty to make other people at least feel positive when they feel my presence. But the best that I can hope for is this.
I'm trying very hard to become a beloved artist, particularly a musician. My vision is ambitious and the idea is to give the world an irresistible, beautiful gift, so that the whole world knows me, and then to shock them by taking my life at a predetermined date, essentially as revenge for the rejections, torments, and struggles of the many years before my outwards "success" makes society deem me worthy of life. I am inspired by figures like Kurt Cobain and especially Chester Bennington, who have caused me this same emotional arc of giving me someone to look up to and feel comfort from, only to have it ripped away in grief that sent me down a horrible spiral, which pushed away whoever was left in my life.
After all that, I still love those people. I think they're innocent. I think that one day, people will forgive me for taking my own life. But I live in the hopes that for some period of time, people will scream and cry and not know what to say or think to themselves and each other as my big presence in the world is suddenly replaced by a bloody void. I want people to look back on the music I created and be horrified that there were so many warnings, and that I had planned to break their hearts all along. I want to be loved through grief. It is the only thing that motivates me not to end it all today, as I have every chance to get hit by a train from practicing it in 2021 and knowing where to find ones that can get the job done quick and surely.
The final judgment of my soul will be that I was like a misbehaved child, too unfortunate to hate, too tragic to love without it hurting, and hopefully, too beautiful to forget.
This world is a canvas on which I paint with my blood.
Thanks for reading.
There is no doubt in my mind that my life will end in suicide, at best before I turn 50, but perhaps later this year. It all depends on how much more rejection, struggle, and stress I can survive from the world as it seems to be falling apart around us.
My dreams in life have always been big. I work hard every day to try to earn the love of the greater collective of people. It never really happens. People tell me to kill myself rather often, mostly because I'm transgender. I try to pass as much as I can for my own comfort and to avoid discrimination from others. I've accepted that transgender people will never be accepted in the world, unless nobody can tell that you are, maybe.
Truthfully, though, I have PTSD from 13 inpatient stays in psyche wards over a course of a decade. Some of those experiences were worse than others, but they were all horrid. Sometimes they isolated me for a long time and did other things that I am too ashamed to type. To this day I cannot trust other people, and not even just because of what's happened in those institutions, but people in general have been so cruel throughout my life that I hide away and never want to leave bed.
Depression and anxiety, along with a constant burden of stress from the unmet need of being loved and accepted by others, drives me to try to use the creative arts and looking pretty to make other people at least feel positive when they feel my presence. But the best that I can hope for is this.
I'm trying very hard to become a beloved artist, particularly a musician. My vision is ambitious and the idea is to give the world an irresistible, beautiful gift, so that the whole world knows me, and then to shock them by taking my life at a predetermined date, essentially as revenge for the rejections, torments, and struggles of the many years before my outwards "success" makes society deem me worthy of life. I am inspired by figures like Kurt Cobain and especially Chester Bennington, who have caused me this same emotional arc of giving me someone to look up to and feel comfort from, only to have it ripped away in grief that sent me down a horrible spiral, which pushed away whoever was left in my life.
After all that, I still love those people. I think they're innocent. I think that one day, people will forgive me for taking my own life. But I live in the hopes that for some period of time, people will scream and cry and not know what to say or think to themselves and each other as my big presence in the world is suddenly replaced by a bloody void. I want people to look back on the music I created and be horrified that there were so many warnings, and that I had planned to break their hearts all along. I want to be loved through grief. It is the only thing that motivates me not to end it all today, as I have every chance to get hit by a train from practicing it in 2021 and knowing where to find ones that can get the job done quick and surely.
The final judgment of my soul will be that I was like a misbehaved child, too unfortunate to hate, too tragic to love without it hurting, and hopefully, too beautiful to forget.
This world is a canvas on which I paint with my blood.
Thanks for reading.
