Like, the world clearly doesn’t want me to exist. Growing up a gender non conforming “weird” probably autistic kid, my mother is legitimately a monster along the lines of Gypsy Rose’s mother. I attempted multiple times as a teenager because I kept hoping someone would notice and take me away.
An abusive marriage, where near the end I was my husbands “slave” and had to sleep on the floor while he fucked teenagers. I did sex work to earn my bachelors degree in a career field with high need - but then they made it impossible to teach and be trans.
But if I say - I’d rather just be dead than try to hope the next thirty years won’t be more hell - the answer is to shove me in a cell (with literal shit on the floor and “I am a bad mother” scrawled on the walls in crayon from the previous inhabitant) and drug me unconscious.
The reason I’m not killing myself this week is that I’m waiting on a FOIA request so the fuckers that my mother got to drug me into shutting up about her benzos will face some sort of justice. A lot of it is just being able to call out evil - to keep screaming about the way people like me have been hurt and are being hurt. I’m just so fucking tired though.
Hey. You deserve good things in life and don’t let anyone tell you anything less. I’m just a stranger on the Internet but keep going. Keep trying and keep looking to surround yourself with people that care about and support you.
Like, the world clearly doesn’t want me to exist. Growing up a gender non conforming “weird” probably autistic kid, my mother is legitimately a monster along the lines of Gypsy Rose’s mother. I attempted multiple times as a teenager because I kept hoping someone would notice and take me away.
An abusive marriage, where near the end I was my husbands “slave” and had to sleep on the floor while he fucked teenagers. I did sex work to earn my bachelors degree in a career field with high need - but then they made it impossible to teach and be trans.
But if I say - I’d rather just be dead than try to hope the next thirty years won’t be more hell - the answer is to shove me in a cell (with literal shit on the floor and “I am a bad mother” scrawled on the walls in crayon from the previous inhabitant) and drug me unconscious.
The reason I’m not killing myself this week is that I’m waiting on a FOIA request so the fuckers that my mother got to drug me into shutting up about her benzos will face some sort of justice. A lot of it is just being able to call out evil - to keep screaming about the way people like me have been hurt and are being hurt. I’m just so fucking tired though.
Hey. You deserve good things in life and don’t let anyone tell you anything less. I’m just a stranger on the Internet but keep going. Keep trying and keep looking to surround yourself with people that care about and support you.