i should’ve been a girl. i’d never really thought that until tonight. for most of my life i thought i was nothing–that is to say, not worthy of thought. more recently i was a girl, or at least saw myself that way. i still do. or would like to. but i’m not. and i probably never will be perceived that way by anyone else in the real world.

i just spent half an hour crying in the bathroom hating myself and my body. my mom called me a man today, unequivocally. i cried in her bathroom too it’s becoming a habit for me i guess. she knows i’ve been having a rough time again. that’s why i went over, to talk about it. i thought she was kind of getting it but apparently not. i know she wants me to be happy, whatever that means, but it feels like everyone wants me to be happy in spite of myself. i guess that’s  fair. i do a lot of things to myself out of spite. she said “happiness is a choice,” which is a thing she says a lot. i tried hinting to her that i am incredibly uncomfortable in my own body and she asked if i wanted to talk about that more. i said no obviously because i am an idiot who hides her own feelings from literally everyone who cares about her but doesn’t know she is a her. what is wrong with me.

a couple of days ago i was the happiest i had been in months. i woke up and read comic books for 2 hours before finally dragging myself out of bed. i put on pants, that i had put on probably hundreds of times before, not clearly masculine or feminine. that’s what did it. i don’t know why. but when i was putting on these sweatpants i really truly 100% undeniably felt like one real person. one real girl. it didn’t last for very long before we were back to our regularly scheduled program though.

cw: su!cidal ideation kinda

almost all i can think about is ending it. i just don’t see another solution. the only things that are keeping me alive are that people would be saying “he killed himself,” in which the pronoun usage bothers me more than the action, and that i have medicine, so to speak, coming in the mail at some point. is this what it’s like for everyone? i know we’re all different people, not a monolith, but i hope others have an easier time than this. it’s to the point where i’m terrified of going to sleep because i don’t want to wake up like this. it’s not even the amount of work that bothers me. like a lot of it is hard, sure, but that’s not what it is. it’s that no matter how much work or money or time i put in it won’t matter. i’ll never look real. this is just a bunch of gibberish. i’m actually sober for this one this is how my brain functions when it’s not being strangled by copious amounts of alcohol. that’s why i do it i guess, it’s certainly not for the love of the game, getting so nauseous that i pass out is not exactly an aspiration of mine.

i feel guilty coming here it feels like a plea for attention. it kind of is. guess i’m going to bed. goodnight, etc.