Don't Make Trans Suicides for the News
I am going to my grave slowly, one tortured, agonizing day at a time
Someone out there is looming. An evil person who saw me into the gutter is watching. They won’t speak. They judge from a place of misunderstanding and privilege.
If you are waiting for me to slow down, Mary. If you hope to speak when I chill. YOU’VE LOST THAT SPACE. You left me here for too long! I called out for help too much!
Your legacy is going to be a dead trans girl on the news that is extra sad because she was a mom and meditation instructor, a great writer, and it all seemed to happen around this one monstrous person who let her feel love once then SHIT ON HER OVER AND OVER UNTIL SHE JUMPED HEAD-FIRST INTO THE SOUNDER TRAIN.
I will never relax. I can’t write fiction anymore. It’s not something I’m willing to do to myself with the ongoing trauma. I just cry after writing something sweet for how I have nobody and no one comments.
YOU ASSHOLE
YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE
SAY SOMETHING, COWARD
HEATHER HATES YOU—SHE WAS A MOM AND A WITCH YOU IMBECILE. YOU DISHONOR HER EVERY MINUTE YOU FAIL TO HELP ME.
LinkedIn is so hot right now.