confession, Deadbeat Dad, depressed, free write, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, love, short story, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Jumper

‘Hm.. That’s a strange shadow. Sorta looks like a person.’

I look on top the building, and see a girl standing on the edge. She looks upset. I might as well go up and check it out.

The door isn’t locked. I climb up 8 flights of stairs. I’m breathing kinda hard by the time I reach the top. The door to the roof is clearly marked so I go through it. The door creaks and the girl turns around. 

“DON’T! DONT COME ANY CLOSER!” She yells at me. 

I furrow my brow. “Why not? Whether I go over there or not has no impact on if you jump. Does it?”

She frowns. I walk over to the ledge and sit down about two feet from her. 

“Why are you here?” She asks.

“I was walking by. Felt like coming to see what you were doing. There’s a pretty good view of the city from here.”

She considers kicking me. I can see it on her face. I look back at the skyline of the city. 

“Are you gonna try and talk me down?”

“Do you want to be talked down?” I respond. I still don’t look at her. 

Out the corner of my eye I see droplets falling over the edge. Either it’s raining, or she’s crying. Probably crying. I still don’t look at her. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

I glance at her. Shes looking at me and has tear stains going down her cheeks.I reach in my pocket and hand her a tissue I grabbed on the off chance I’d need it in a Wendy’s earlier. 

“Have a seat. All that standing probably made you tired.”

She sits down wiping her face not even realizing she stopped standing on the edge. 

“Can I ask you something?” She says. I nod and look at the cars driving in the distance. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I look at her. I really look at her. The curve of her jaw, the shape of the arch of her eyebrows, the color of her blue-green eyes and the will to live that’s gone out of them. Her salmon colored lips and dark orange hair. The splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose on her slightly tanned skin. She’s pretty. She’s not gonna stop traffic but I like the way she looks. 

She waits as I study her. And the longer I look the more she starts to fidget. When she breaks eye contact I look back at the cars.

“What does my opinion matter to you. I’m a stranger. For all you know, I could be gay.” 

Based on the look on her face I can tell she was not expecting that answer. 

“Are you gay?”

I shake my head. “Then do you think I’m pretty?” She asks again. 

I make direct eye contact. “I think you’re pretty. I think you’re really pretty. Personally you’re my ideal woman. If in looks only. But looks aren’t everything. Were you on the edge because someone called you ugly?”

She’s beet red. “No. I’m not that petty. I was on the edge because I’m alone. My family is dead, my friends don’t ever want to hang out with me and my last boyfriend killed himself.” 

I look at her again. She looks at me. 

“That’s why you want to die?”

She looks down. “I don’t want to die. I just don’t know, if I want to live.”

I realize I’m sweating. And then I realize that some of what I thought was her blushing was also flushing from the heat. 

“Do you wanna go get a smoothie or something? Its pretty hot up here.” 

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. I look at her calmly and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. She keeps looking at me. I break eye contact but I can still feel her staring. “Okay.. Maybe it was a bad idea.”

She comes closer to me. She puts one hand on my shoulder and holds my chin with the other. She tilts my head this way and that then sits back to look at me some more. 

“…are you transgender?”

Okay. Obviously I wasn’t passing as well as I thought. But I nod. She stands up and extends a hand toward me. “I’m buying” she says. 

I’m very, very confused right now. What the hell just happened? I follow behind her. I’m about three inches taller than her. I take this chance to.. Take in her figure. It’s not a bad one. I don’t look for more than two seconds. I’m not a creep I swear. 

We get to the first floor and go out. About two blocks away is a smoothie shop. We walk the two blocks in silence stealing glances at each other when we think the other isn’t looking. I got pretty quiet after I realized I wasn’t passing as well. Keeping my head sort of down and not looking at strangers. Not talking. 

“Are you okay?” She asks me outside the smoothie shop. I open the door for her and nod while shrugging. Like ‘yeah of course’.
We order smoothies. Hers is pink and mine is a sort of light purple. She pays literally slapping my hand away when I tried. The cashier got a kick out of that and then we sat in a corner booth.

“Whats your name?” I ask. She looks at me with a crooked grin. 

“Only took you forever to ask. You can call me Angel.” She says.

I feel like that’s not her name but nod. “Jason.” I say and reach out my hand to shake hers. She scoffs and sips her smoothie leaving me there awkwardly with an outstretched hand. I look down and sip my smoothie with that hand now under the table. I feel her staring at me again. But this time I don’t mind as much. I look up and defiantly stare back. She scoots over to my side of the bench. I sip my smoothie again and pretend to ignore her. She reaches her hand under the bottom of my shirt. I feel my heartbeat quicken because I don’t know what she’s going to do. 

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confession, depressed, free write, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

(Untitled)

I don’t know how to explain it. On the outside I guess you can tell I’m not happy. I’m usually not smiling, and when I am it doesn’t last long. I’m so sick of people including me in their prejudices. All I want is to be left alone and happy. If you can’t leave me alone, then at least have the decency to call me by the correct name, or pronouns. I don’t go out of my way to impose my beliefs on people or try to force them to see things my way. For the most part I mind my own business. Sure I have opinions, I have a ton of them. But does that mean I’m gonna take the time to bring them up and try to make you see things my way? Nope. Because I don’t care what you think. You could be flat out wrong and I probably still wouldn’t correct you. If you wanted to be corrected, you’d do some research. You could be imposing your beliefs onto me. I’ll probably ignore you. But if I don’t ignore you, and our beliefs contradict, I’ll listen to your point of view, form my own opinion and continue to keep it to myself, unless you ask me. But if you come and just decide you’re gonna be a jerk and harass me or constantly mess with me or ignore the one thing I ask which is call me by the correct words, then we have a problem. Then I’ll tell you off. Then I’ll get mad. Not necessarily in that order. Because it takes a lot, to make me even aggravated much less mad. Most of my friends can’t ever say they’ve seen me mad, or if they have it was less than twice. I try to be good tempered. I keep to myself to the point people think I’m shy. I’m not shy, if I don’t talk to you it’s because I have absolutely nothing to say to you. I don’t know you and probably have no interest in starting to. Doesn’t make me “shy”. 

I’m probably clinically depressed, and if I was only surrounded by people who accepted me and made me happy I seriously doubt that would be the case. But you can’t choose your family, and you can’t choose your circumstances. So here I am, constantly unhappy, but too unsatisfied with the way I’d die to kill myself. If I were to die today I’d want to be cremated and scattered because I don’t want a tombstone that’s gonna have the wrong name on it. Or the wrong words under that name.  Hopefully, by the time I do die I’ll die happy. Instead of the way I am now. Constantly in a state of “meh” wishing for things to be different. Making efforts to change things and then more things happen pushing me back or making it so everything stays the same. Other people, would’ve offed themselves by now if they were me. I’ve considered it many times. Committed to it at other times and then not done it because I found no reason death would be any better. They say everything happens for a reason. What was my reason? Why am I here? Was I truly born just to live and die unhappily? What did I do in my past lives or who did I piss off for this? I’m only 19 but I feel like I’ve lived 19 years too long.

I don’t want to. But it’s so hard to ignore it all.

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Buddhism, confession, depressed, free write, freedom of speech, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, love, poetry, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Afraid

I’m not scared, truly scared, of many things.

 I’m not scared of dying, I just want to know.. Exactly what will happen when I do. I’m scared of the unknown after death. What if nothing happens, everything goes black and that’s the end for me. I won’t even know if I exist or not because I won’t know to think. What if there’s really a god? What if there are many? What will they do with me? What if I just reincarnate, thirty years from now as.. A tree? That gets cut down for a house nobody will live in because they can’t afford it. Q

I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m afraid of what could be in it. No light is ever fast enough to show that thing you thought you saw. No eye is ever strong enough to see it properly in the dark. That moment when the light goes out, all the light, that’s the moment I wonder if I should be scared.

I’m not afraid of spiders, or snakes, or bears, or sharks. I’m afraid of what they can do to me. I’m just a weak human. One well placed tap and a human dies. One air bubble in your vein and a human dies. One bite, from a small eight legged creature smaller than your thumb nail, simply because it had a whim, a human dies. You enter the water and move in a way that interests a shark, a human dies. You have food when a hungry bear passes by, a human dies.  You walk through grass slightly past your ankle and startle a snake.. A human dies. 

But what happens after death? Is it the darkness? What’s in the darkness? Is it death?
The thoughts that go through my head however, they scare me. They scare me the worst of all. Because sometimes.. I want to  listen to them. These thoughts, these feelings, the voices that aren’t really voices telling me just one.. Just once.. It won’t hurt.. It won’t go wrong.. Nothing bad will happen.
But in reality, just one, once.. Will be the worst pain and the worst betrayal of all. 

The thing I’m scared of the most, is
Myself.

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confession, depressed, free write, letter to, LGBTQ, Longwinded nothingness, love, poetry, Transgender(FTM), Uncategorized

Hate feeling..

I hate my feelings, my wants and desires. They’re all 

so strong

So wrong.

I shouldn’t feel that way for this person. Not even close. 

Midnight cravings.. 

The urges to act

The willpower to not.

It hurts. It hurts so much just to be myself.

It hurts even more to not.

It kills me to feel the way I feel, knowing I can never.. Act on it.. Or get it out of my head.

So much guilt and I never even did anything.

Just the fact that I want to.. Keeps me up at night in tears. 

And then the good feelings.. They’re even worse. 

Because when it ends

Its shattering pain.

Heartache and confusion

The years wasted the why was it wasted why did you change?

I didn’t change..

How and why.

Do such strong emotions.. Such pitiful thoughts.. Such terrible feelings

So wrong

Immoral

Illegal if done

Just why?.. 

How can I stop it.

So tempted to die.

But that won’t fix it

What will?!

How will I know.. How can I know..

Dying won’t fix anything..

But living doesn’t help.

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