#don’t relapse

[kill-me-with-fire]

My partner accidentally triggered me.

How do I go about explaining that I’m not mad? I’ve been doing okay, but she raised her voice and I had a panic attack. What do I do?

[thesoberbitch]

Hope everyone has a good Labor Day weekend!

[kill-me-with-fire]

I don’t know how to be alive

[thesoberbitch]

Jesus Christ, how many times has this happened to me?

[kill-me-with-fire]

Dear mom

I wish you knew how to love, it’s not your fault that you don’t. I wish you could understand that your child is struggling, and it’s because of you. I wish that, no matter how much you think you care about me, you showed it. I wish you could show how you truly feel.

Every time you defend me, you bring up me killing myself. Why is that? Are you scared?

Are you scared that no matter what you do, you know you’re a horrible parent? Are you scared that your trans child that you have never respected will finally end it? Or are you fucking scared that you will fail as a parent?

Because you have. You have failed me, mother.

And I hate you for it. It’s taken a while to say it out loud, and I’ll probably never say it to you. But I do, I hate you, and it breaks me.

It breaks me because I know you’re trying. In your own way, but you are. But that doesn’t mean you’re good at it, you are the exact thing I beg a nonexistent god to never let me become.

By the way. You doing “everything you have for me” is the bare minimum. Yes, you came and got me when I called at twelve years old from my abuser’s house. And yes, you defend me sometimes, but that’s literally it. You can say you understand me all you want, but you never will, nor will you ever actually except who I am.

Who am I? I am a boy. Not a girl. My name is not the horrible thing you call me. And no, I don’t want to except my body for what it is.

Why do I want to end it? You’ve asked me that before. The answer? Usually it’s one of three things, and you? You are at the top of that fucking list.

So yes mother, I hate you, and I beg you feel the same, don’t you?

[kill-me-with-fire]

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

I FUCKING HATE YOU

[kill-me-with-fire]

Sometimes I wonder how it feels.

The warm liquid running down my hand.

The cold feeling as I drift off.

The sharp metal between my fingers.

I just want to sleep.

I want to know if people would care,

Or if they would read the letter I would leave.

I don’t have any plans of doing anything, I just want the feelings to end.

[kill-me-with-fire]

I don’t know what to do…

I just want my mom.

But I’m pretty sure she hates me.

She’s not a bad person, she’s just been through a lot.

And I’m slowly turning into her.