The Aftermath

I'm sick of it

I pull on my binder and sigh. It's too noticeable. My parents will question me about how I look. I got it donated to me from a 'friend' on the internet, but it works too well for home life. I struggle to pull it over my head and crumple it into a ball. Throwing the clump of fabric across the room, I slide down to my knees and let a year slide down my cheek. I hate this. The feeling of being wrong all the time. 'I look to feminine to be a guy.' 'Too stupid to be a real girl.' 'Tranny.' 'Dyke.' Those are what my friends say... my parents say I'm sick. That I'm demented and going to hell. Nobody accepts me as me, as River. They all see me just as Melody. I'm so oppressed and downtrodden and beaten down and up all the time. My parents hate me, I can't focus enough to get good grades, I'm sick of it. I walk over to the bathroom and pull out a bottle of antidepressants. Full, but not for long.

I hope everyone enjoys the story and understands that it's not to tell the sob story of some angst trans teen, but to tell of the impact their death could leave in people. It's only meant to entertain and teach, I promise once I finish this book I'll leave various hotlines for teens. Maybe that's something to keep you alive, waiting for the resolution of this book and the string of numbers I promise to provide. If you're having any minor issues you feel silly telling to anyone else, pm me, I promise I won't laugh. I'll do my best to help however I can, but remember. I'm only a teenager myself, I haven't studied psychology. I only want to help in whatever way I can by letting people talk and being there to listen. I love you all and hope you enjoy!