A collection of thoughts.
Yeah, I’m definitely not okay.
Also, this is definitely an incomprehendable wall of text, so read at your own risk regardless.
First off, I’m getting actually damn near angry for the first time in fucking years because a bunch of fucking assholes can’t get their shit together and fucking either get rid of the people that bring up shit that should’ve been worked out and solved or thrown away A YEAR AGO, but instead they gotta fuckin’ bring it back up and start the most gigantic shitbird of a circlejerk dramafest that just drains the souls out of anyone who dares enter or even think about it for fuck’s sake. It all could have been avoidable, or at least, you would’ve come to the conclusion of ‘I guess I shouldn’t communicate with you’ and move on with your goddamn lives.
And of course THAT monkeycock wagon has to breed into some shit that ruins the days and lives of plenty of others that weren’t even involved in the damn thing, and fucking basically brings down the club of people with it for no good reason. How I’ve managed to look away from it for so long is astonishing to me, but it may have even been the wrong move if I could even stop this tsunami of a rhino vagina ripping fest. Now I get the goddamn pleasure of seeing people fucking rip eachother apart out of pure anger and pure unwillingness to take the fucking time to calm down for a bit and at least think about what they’re doing before they all decide to collectively make the worst decision for even the people that aren’t involved, because now they have to deal with this fucking selfish fighting bullshit.
And on top of that, that breeds concern for friends that may want to commit suicide! That also means that I get to think about Kyle more than I already do! Which means I’m now pulled into this god awful shitfest of negativity, because I ,rightfully so, still haven’t been able to 100% cope with the fact that that kid that I oh so truly loved had decided to end his life for what reason I still, truly, still do not know to this day. NOW I get to see if my other friends decide to walk down that path, even though I will almost certainly do everything within my power to stop others from ending their own lives, for their own reasons, and ultimately fueling the nearly never-ending cycle of despair on all of our lives. I’d just rather not see that again AND see how other first-timers crumble before their knees as they have to deal with the crippling weight and soberness of death that looms over each and every one of us for as long as we live.
Adding onto the pile of fuck, the feeling of hopelessness and a sense of never being purely my essence sticks itself and stings into my very core. It makes me remember that even my fucking blood family can’t handle and even bear to remember what my essence is. From the times and times again I try to tell them they always either have tried to wriggle their way away from it, or just have flat out told me that they’re not gonna even try. As much as I enjoy the wonders of life, and the possibilities of fully going through transition and into the female body I yearn for, or maybe even should’ve gotten in the first place, I now find my self in this fuck hole of negativity, fear, rage, and exasperation that have just lead me to where I am typing this brick wall of emotion now. I hate that I’m constantly fearing I’m transsexual, and ‘if that person knows, it could get violent quite quickly’, or ‘if that person knows, my opportunities will certainly suffer as a result.’ Even the internal struggle of what I really am has now found it’s plaguing way back into my mind.
And to top off the shit-cake, it’s fucking finals week. I need to fucking pass precalculus so I can even fucking graduate this shitty fucking school that has a 7 point grading system that won’t fucking matter when I get into a college. I’m currently sitting at a 70 fucking percent and that is around 1 percent from straight up failing the fucking class.That’s fucking stupid, but there’s jack shit I can do about it other than get fucked.
If I hadn’t realized that suicide was pointless and purely a shitfest for those who care (whether you fucking know it or not.) I would’ve been dead by the time I was fucking thirteen and nearly too scared to fucking shank the two pocket knives that currently reside in lakes into my goddamn jugular.
On the brighter side of things, it’s heart-wrenchingly beautiful to see that I’ve managed to make a positive impact on someone’s life. Starting from a 2 or so hour long conversation at an anime convention I’ve actually managed to help someone. That brought legitimate tears of happiness into my eyes, and I hope that I can continue to help them a bit further on their journey, even if it’s just one thing.
