T’was about 33 minutes and 7 seconds ago that he relapsed in may of mental health awareness month. He sits around waiting to be good enough. He sits around wishing he had been born a male because of the cruelty of this world, He sits around tired of his sisters remarks, he sits around hoping that one day someone will see him breaking apart, but it as if no one notices. No one notices his tears until they turn into destruction or anger, no one notices his silence until it’s quiet as a mouse. No one notices the heavy-ness that he carries on his shoulders day by day and night by night. Constant deadnaming, constant jokes that are hurtful, constantly stuck in his mind and in his house all day long, constantly begging for people to text him but not a single soul will care. He prays in fear every night, and cries himself to sleep. The thoughts begin to tell him, boys don’t cry nothing-less weep. He hopes they keep that same energy the night he finally lay at peace with his thoughts. He prays that the people who surround him won’t mourn his loss. He tells a tale of sorrow and terror as he begins to sing, crying out for help but no ones listening. He hopes he doesn’t end up back where he started, but I guess that it’s too late my dude, your plane has just departed.

Sincerely,

Fern Michaels.