As a person, I don’t exist:
I tame down my personality to not bother people around me. I may type a lot for you, but in real life there are days I don’t get to utter a single word out loud. There are days I don’t get a reply to anything too.
My life’s over:
I’m 28, fairly young. Transgender. I’ve no hope in ever getting to transition. The only way I push through the day is by chasing small things: get a binder, cut your hair, trim your nails, work out. I still look like a dough lump, I don’t pass at all. Nobody sees what’s inside. I appreciate the friends who tried tho, who call me by the name I chose, and use right pronouns. But ya’ll use them only in private, have you noticed? Once we’re with people, it reverts. Are you ashamed of me? It’s okay, I’m ashamed of myself too. That’s why I revert too and use whatever you used.
I’ve no one to talk to, no one to lean on:
I give people half-truths, truths with omissions, because I dread they’ll judge me or my family for it. My family isn’t perfect. But I can’t help loving them, and I won’t have them hurt. I’ve honestly no one to talk to about my fears, hopes, or what’s eating me on the inside. I deal with this by supplying myself with happy little things, and as much work as I can cram into a day before I go mad. My happy thing right now is a black little stone a friend gave me, it looks like it came from Black London. And even with her it took almost a year of talking every Wednesday before I actually allowed myself to believe that she maybe wants to talk to me too, and I don’t impose. Yes, I always feel like I impose on people, that they don’t care, that they’re just being polite. And you know what? I think it’s truth. How else would you explain the fact I’m writing this in a public blog post, instead of talking it out with someone, anyone. People have their own problems. Some seek a job, others are trying to make it up with their co-workers. Others feel they’ve no one to lean on. And not one of you is aware I can relate.
Lecture me, I’ll listen:
People who do mistakes that I do, tend to lecture me on how I’m doing those damn mistakes and how I should do something about it. See, you’re judging me here. But you do the same thing too. It’s like a meat-eater preaching why you need to become a vegetarian.
I’ll put you first, forget about me:
I’ll walk out of my way for you. Some part of me will hope you’d do the same for me. But you won’t. Hell, you won’t even care that I did, so really, I’m the dumb one here. You’ve no idea how many times I turned off a video game to talk to a friend when they were down. And how many times all I could do was stare into the wall myself. I’m ready to give up my dreams for any of my friends, no joke. But I’m not sure anyone would do that for me. And I’m really not sure anyone would care about what I did, or appreciate it. So I tell you now: put yourself first. Everyone else does.
So to sum it up:
All I want and can offer is friendship. I’ll give you my heart, because that’s what friendship means to me. And if you step on it, well, my bad for leaving it there, sorry.
Yes, I am pathetic, pitiful creature of whom no one gives any damns, because life goes on for everyone, separately. And sometimes, that’s the biggest problem they have.