It’s all my fault.
My fault we’re here, my fault for not trying harder, my fault for not researching things properly, for not taking care of myself.
It’s all my fault, so I have to sit here and listen to them tell me how useless I am, how short-sighted, how self-centred, how irresponsible (I lost my passport – not exactly surprising seeing as I didn’t use it and consequently forgot where I stashed it), how I’m all wrong, even how my choice of haircut or perfume is shit.
Oh yeah, and then there’s: “It would have been clever of you to choose a name closer to your old name” (because, you know, I picked my name just to be difficult).
Sorry for getting you down, folks. It’s tiring hearing this 24/7.
Like I needed more reasons to feel bad about myself.
In other news, I miss wearing suits, and playing my guitar. I miss my friends (well, that’s not really news, is it?). I also miss my privacy, and people who know that wearing headphones means ‘Don’t talk to me right now. Leave me alone’.
It could be worse, I suppose.
Friends of mine: “”They could’ve kicked you out of the house when you told them you were trans.”
They could abuse me physically. But they don’t.
“You’re so lucky to have such cool and understanding parents.”
Or I could be dead.
“You don’t appreciate what you have.”
That’s a sobering thought.
“You’re so ungrateful.”
Still, it doesn’t mean that I have to sit here and take all this verbal abuse, right?
In the absence of a guitar or something I can lose myself in right now, I’ve uncovered some tunes I used to listen to during my teenage years: