Uh. I seriously don't recommend readinf this. It's kinda just a vent for me at the moment until I delete it at some point, or forget that this account exists. But uh, Yeah. It deals with S-icide and mentions of Ab-se that Will not be censored and might go into detail. But uh, If you do read it - Please be careful I think
I don't actually know how to write this, which is funny because I've done this before - Twice actually.
I dont know if I'll be alive, actually. Both figuratively and literally. So I guess this is my last shot at trying to really amount to anything and actually talking about shit? I haven't done anything too dangerous, but I'm currently in limbo mentally.
So, In reality - I never planned to make it passed Fifth grade. From Third to Fifth I was physically and mentally abused and In the long run, It did a toll. I was going to kill myself via overdose - But I was a pussy and didn't take alot ox pills and I was eventually talked out of it all together anyways.
I think 6th grade is when I started to gain the fear of never amounting to anything. I don't really have alot of talents that could put me anywhere in life, and my mother was always pressuring me to chose a job that would bring our Family money.
From around Seventh grade till now (Eleventh), I couldn't really keep my grades up Past a D (Though, I'm doing alot better, I'm passing most classes). I kept them up for the first quarter, maybe Second, But I'd burn out so quickly - and once they started to drop - I couldn't really get it back up. So I gave up.
7Th grade was my second attempt at Suicide. I dug a part of a pencil sharpener into my leg in hopes to hit something, But Im also really squimish around blood. I didn't go too deep, but I left a few marks. I typically wear some shorts to bed - And they never rolled up so I didn't really see an issue with it. My mother woke me up screaming at me about how R-tarded I was. My shorts were completely rolled up and she kept on yelling and yelling. She dragged me by the arm and pushed me into the bathroom yelling at me to clean up.
I asked her for Advil - Admittedly it hurts to clean things like that. But, she said I deserved the pain that stemmed from it for being so stupid.
At some point in this, I wanted to mention the blatant Transphobia from my mother, But I was nervous that you guys would see me as less of a guy. I also realized that I'm not sure if I'll wake up tomorrow, so why not.
I am Transgender.
Big secret, I know. Of course, My name isn't Bee - But I don't think I'm ready to tell that just yet, Maybe I'll do something about that later on.
Anyways, She threatened to tell my dad that I hurt myself for attention if I didn't get my grades up - So I wound up telling him myself. He was the only one out of the two to ask if I needed anything, even a therapist.
I want to preface that my mother always threatened to send me to a therapist. She demonized them as if they were some awful and disgusting mythical creature that sought out my deepest secrets to use against me. It's funny, because that's exactly what she's done.
Once I came out to her, she immediately hated me all over again. She used to tell me she hated me when I was younger, and she threatened to leave us (my dad and I) if I kept crying about the threats. Anyways, She never really accepted the fact I was Trans. She called me a D-ke in the middle of a target, constantly forced me to wear feminine clothing, and told me that I was a sinner that was doomed to hell.
a little bit of a fast forwards to nineth grade. This year hit hard. Three of my friends committed suicide and I had to call the Fire Department (Acab) on one of my friends. My best friend, who I actually wrote about, was my mother figure since we met. Call it envy or me being a jackass, but I feel anger and resentment for the people who moved on from her death.
At her celebration of life, My mother told me to get over her death. School was more important. Grades meant everything. I wasn't allowed to mourn for someone closer to me than my own mother was.
I'm in Eleventh Grade now. My mother still claims that she did nothing wrong. That the two and a half years of abuse never happened.
She yells at me for flinching whenever she goes to touch me or hug me. She tells me constantly that I'm over reactinv.
Honestly, tonight? I was going to overdose on my Medication. It's a small dosage amount, but I have about 18 Pills. But, I also don't want to leave my cats behind. I have a small group of younger-ish friends who need a Dad / Brother figure to look up to.
Maybe I'll fight through this one last time.
Im going to bed, Good night.
