"alcohol, my only friend" 2014-03-23 - 2:47 a.m.

older - previous - next - profile - host - my band - my lj

I think about killing myself a lot

just casually

like, I think about how I'm going to kill myself more often than I think about what I'm going to have for lunch

it's oddly calming

"I just have to get through these next few hours at work, and then it'll all be over"

it's kinda funny

I'm too scared to transition [right now]

because I'm scared of throwing my life away

I'm scared of losing my family, and friends; of becoming a pariah

of losing "everything"

but I think nothing of killing myself

it sounds soooooooooooooooo appealing

but it's not really a valid comparison

if I were to kill myself, I get to leave.

one pull of the trigger and this shit is all fucking behind me

it's a point-and-click interface

if I transition, I have to stay

I get to stick around and watch everyone turn against me

bah

I mean, what do you want me to say?

universe?

I don't feel like a man

and, you know, it's all so existential

what is a man? what is a woman? what are you? are you anything?

fuck

I feel better with tits

I like putting on makeup

my body language and temperament seem to suggest a woman

given the choice, I would select "woman"

but I was not given the choice

and I do not have the option

I can have all these surgeries, and spend all the money

[except, whoops, I can't! hahahahahaha! I can't even afford an apartment!]

and I'll be a man that was cut up to look like a woman

and maybe if I'm lucky

if I'm really really lucky

I can pass for a woman, and be able to live the rest of my life as such

except to my parents, and friends, and coworkers, who all know what I really am

and any girl I fall in love with, well shit I'm gonna have to tell her too

so what does all these surgeries buy me?

some estrogen and my penis chopped up into some guys' best imitation of a vagina

and boobs, I guess. The boobs would be real

is it really worth everything?

and so what's behind... well, not taking a door?

what if I keep the original prize?

or however that dumb gameshow worked

I stay a guy

and I'm pretty happy I guess

for the rest of my life

you know, I do ok

I drink a lot, and I hate myself

and maybe I find some girl

I mean, it's not like I've ever been good at meeting girls

I mean, fuck, maybe I'll get back together with G___

why not, right?

pop out a few kids

so they can continue to buy things and keep the economy running after I die

you know, I put so much stock in "I would be happy if I were a woman"

what would really be different?

huh, me?

answer me that, fuckface

I would get boobs, and estrogen, and a penis chopped into a reasonable facsimile of a vagina

and I would have to try and find some girl

[except maybe the girl would find me]

and I'd have to explain to her that I used to be a dude

[and then she'd probably leave me]

and pop out a few kids

so they can buy shit when I'm dead

do you really think we'd be any happier?

yeah, sure, it'd be nice

we'd be more comfortable, and more natural

and finally feel like we had the right body

we wouldn't feel like we were wrong on some fundamental level all the fucking time

but you would still be there

I would still be a "we"

you'd still be waiting behind the boobs

so fuck it, I might as well make everyone else happy

unless I kill myself

that'd piss everyone else off too

but man would it make things easier on me

so much easier

I mean, what am I holding out for, exactly?

what great, bright future am I waiting for?

what is so good that I should stick around and put up with this shit even longer?

because I'm worried that it'll be more of the same

in case you were wondering

I'm worried I'll get there and I'll still be this until forever

here at least there's an end, I can die

whatever comes next, that's forever

forever ever, forever ever

and what if they hold it against me?

whoever sits in judgement, if anyone does

what if my beliefs are wrong, and there really is some being judging all of us and the dumb, shitty choices we make

and suicide fucks shit up for you

do I really want to go through forever with that mark on my record?

just because I couldn't handle this shit for like, fifty more years?

it doesn't matter

nothing matters

let's get fucked up

�

�