*Thanks for 4K*
Also, ignore this if your depressed, cause I'm talking about depressing stuff
And ignore this anyways even if you are fine.
I'm fucking done with my mom.
I QUIT
I'm putting it here so it's in writing, because once it's in writing, I'm personally bound to this decision.
*I started writing this as basically a letter to her, and I'm too lazy and pissed to go back and edit it*
I cannot understand why it is so fucking difficult to switch a name, and pronouns.
Heck, I've even gave you advice, THAT FUCKING WORKS, to help you remember.
If you would do it, you would get it down. But you don't seem to fucking try, AT ALL.
At least everyone else tries, and I can tell they do. They mess up, they fix it. I have to correct them, and they apologize, AND FIX IT, and remember the next time.
I will tell you, "Fix the pronouns" and you'll roll your eyes, and say "Whatever" or "I don't care, it's not a big deal." then misgender me the next sentence.
You also get pissed about me correcting you, even when I do it in the nicest way that fucking exists. I could yell and scream at you, but do I? No. Yeah, sometimes I add a bit of sass, but that's after you do it continuously.
Like, lady, fuck off, it's not that damn difficult.
And then you fucking pounce on my whenever I do something feminine. My hip goes one centimeter to the left, and your like, "YOU'RE NOT TRANS, THAT WAS FEMININE! YOU'RE AN ATTENTION WHORE!"
Just no.
You also like to talk to me like I'm a girl, tell me how your boob itches, or some shit.
If you wouldn't say it to my cisgender little brother, then don't say it to me. End of story.
And guess what? I told you that. What did you do? Get pissed at me.
Oh, you also like to make a point of pointing out "girl" things, and trying to get me to do it. Putting a hair clip in my hair. Wearing a dress. Etc.
I'm not a fucking girl, don't treat me like one.
Oh yeah, and the phase statement, "Ah, all your cousins never liked their puberty development! You'll grow out of it, it's just a phase, I went through it too."
Nope. It's not a goddamn phase, shut up.
And then their's the, "You'll always be my little girl" and the "*birthname* is your REAL name."
I'm not a girl, and my birthname isn't my real name. Go to hell.
And then, when I point all this shit out to you, you get pissed, throw a tempertantrum, and throw all this blame on to me like it's my fault I'm trans.
Well, newsflash, I'm not. If I had the choice to be cis, I'd take it. It's much better than having suicidal thoughts because your body doesn't match what it should be, having people out their that want to murder you, having people out there who think you're horrible, and some sort of criminal, having people thing you are less than them, having people argue about which room you should have to take a piss in, loosing your best friends because being trans is against their morals, and is weird, having your own family think you're a god damn dissapointment.
Yeah, I totally fucking want this shit.
And I know why your pissed too,
Because you're too damn selfish, and making this about YOU, when it's not. You're pissed because you didn't get that perfect fucking daughter you wanted, that would go to the mall, bake, go to prom, get a boyfriend.
But y'know what sucks more? You lost an entire fucking child because you were stuck up in your own little bubble of "Mom town".
And you wonder why I dislike you, but I'm fine with basically everyone else.
I don't get it, mom, tell me, what the hell do I have to do?
Do you want me to go back in the closet, keep pretending, and end up killing myself? Because if that's what you want, WHY NOT? Who fucking cares, am I right?
I'm not worth it, because I'm trans, aren't I correct?
Pretty sure you said that too once.
I also remember, "Why can't you just be a fucking lesbian? This, this is weird. You can't be that." *But when I was out as Bi, you hated it.*
And, "Something's wrong with you."
And, "Why can't you be normal?"
And, "Can't you just, like, pretend to be a girl?"
And, "What kind of attention do you want? All you have to do is ask."
And then you make it all up by buying me something with all that cash you have!
Doesn't work like that. All the damn scars are still there!
Heck, I have the only physical one on my stomach still. Yeah, it's practically gone, but right now, it's still there, and it's been quite a while.
I also still have the bag of those shocky tag thingys that I used to use, that are still covered in burnt skin.
Yeah, so maybe you should check yourself.
