i'm so so sure that once i do x, then i'll be happy. once i'm talented, and fit, and maybe even skinny, then i'll be happy. my problems will melt away, my brain will work right. i'll know how to talk to people, know what to say to keep from being alone all the time - know when to joke and when to be serious, figure out how to stop feeling like a child wearing an extra large 'adult' costume. one day i'll know how to not want to kill myself. which is perhaps dramatic but it's like that fucking jreg video; always an option. and when you get into a decade of statis, you start to think well, shit. this is where i'm at, how i am, and i hate it and it kills me anew every single day. so maybe killing myself is better than that. and then you roll over and drink some soda and talk to a friend and move on, but the thought lingers. it always lingers.

and sure as shit some of this is dysphoria related. i hate how the world sees me but i'm terrifying of making any steps beyond, to change how they see me. when i was fully closeted it was actually easier because there weren't any choices at all, it was just: keep shoving this thing down until you kill it, or it kills you. but once you let it out, it doesn't want half-measures. it doesn't want you to present like you always have to the world and then feel your body cratering in as someone misgenders you, calls you the 'wrong' name.

im feeling better even now, but my last blog post was wrong - i can't last two years. i can barely last another minute like this. i want to be alive, and happy, and i want to be ME.