QUEER | tayley

so long and goodnight

BIG FAT WARNING: descriptive suicide attempt.

I calmly grab the chair that sits behind the desk in my bedroom and move it to the center of my room. It sits directly below my ceiling fan.

I recall that there is a sturdy rope that has been sitting in my garage for years, untouched since its purchase. I retrieve the rope and, thanks to some handy YouTube tutorials, am able to tie a perfect noose with ease.

I'm not sure whether or not I should take my time with this. It all depends on how long I'll be home alone.

Taylor → Mom: When will u be home?

Mom: Out shopping...prob won't be home for another hour.

Perfect. I take a seat on my bed with a notebook in my lap and a pen in my left hand. As soon as the tip of the pen comes into contact with the loose-leaf sheet of paper, tears begin to well in my eyes. This is real. This is happening. Although I'm excited to witness the afterlife, relieved to know I won't be stuck in this world much longer, I'm also terrified. What if I go to hell for this? How will my family react? Would they even be able to afford a funeral?

Still, I feel that this is for the best.

I begin to write out my first letter. This one will be for both of my parents. Even though my dad is a dick, he deserves some kind of closure.

Mom and Dad,

I love you so much, Mom, and I'm so sorry. And Dad...I don't know what to say. I'm sorry I was a disappointment to you. I won't be anymore. Please, if you bury me, do not write on the gravestone that I was ever anyone's daughter, or sister, or whatever else because none of that is me. I'm Taylor Benjamin York. That's who I want to be remembered as. Again, I am so sorry that I'm putting all of you through this. I wish there was something else I could do, but I think all I need is an escape from this horrid world. A permanent escape. I've never truly felt like I belong. Mom, don't blame yourself. You are part of the reason I didn't do this sooner. But Dad...I feel like you supporting me could have prevented this. I'm so sorry. I love you.
Your son,
Taylor

By the time I write my name, tears have fallen onto the page. I tear the paper out of the notebook that it has resided within and move onto the next letter. My brothers.

Justin and Chris,

I'm sorry that I was never all that close with either of you. It's just that I'm so much younger...and when we were little, I rarely got to play games with you two. You would play with trucks and I was stuck with dolls. I wish we could have been closer. I know you two were never against me being trans, but I wish that you had showed direct support. I blame the lack of support on us not being as close as we could have been. I love you guys. I'm sorry that it came to this.
Love,
Taylor

I rack my brain to think of who else is worthy of a letter. Zac, of course.

Zac,

Being your friend has been one of the greatest things I've ever had the honor of experiencing. I truly wish that I was better when it came to words and expressing my feelings with someone other than my therapist, because I want you to truly understand how much I love you. You were the first person I came out to. The first person to start calling me by the correct pronouns. You've stood up for me when people couldn't grasp the idea of a transboy being in the same general vicinity as them. At times, I've felt as though you're the only person who has really been there for me. You've always been there for me. Even in times where we've fought and bickered, which was always about something dumb and petty, we always made up. I am so blessed to know you, to have you as a friend, a best friend. Thank you for being you. I'm sorry I'm doing this. It's what needs to be done. I don't belong here. But you helped me forget that.
Love,
Taylor

Last and certainly least, Hayley. I know I shouldn't blame her for this because she's not forcing a noose around my neck or holding a gun to my head, but it's hard not to blame her. I have been considering suicide more and more the last few weeks, but the bullying incident today pushed me a few steps closer to the cliff that Hayley's words finally pushed me off of.

Hayley,

I want to say I hate you, but I don't hate you. I don't hate you at all. I love you. I'm in love with you. I know I shouldn't be, and I'm still pissed at you for breaking my heart, but I can't resist. You're the first and only girl I ever loved. And it seems that you'll be the last girl, too. I kind of wish I never met you. But I'm also so glad that I met you, because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I both love and hate you. I don't really know what to say other than that. I'm sorry for wasting your time. You deserve better than me. I hope you find happiness.
Love,
Taylor

I neatly place all four of the letters on my bed, clear my throat, and step onto the chair with the noose in my hands. I tie one side of the rope to my ceiling fan and tug on the rope to ensure that it is tied tightly enough around the fan.

Here goes nothing...

My heart begins pounding a few beats faster as I bring the rope loosely around my neck. Just as I'm tightening it, I swear, I hear the front door swing open. But considering I hear no one shouting my name, I assume that it's my ears playing tricks on me.

As I stand there, knowing that my life is minutes — or even seconds — away from being over, a wave of nausea washes over me. I decide that I have to do this before it's too late. I tighten the rope.

My legs give out, causing me to fall off of the chair. I can hear the wooden furniture falling — first knocking over a lamp, therefore shattering it, and then loudly meeting the floor.

My body instinctively begins to flail as I hang a few feet above the ground. I gag as the noose chokes me, showing that I must have either tied the knot incorrectly or placed it in the wrong spot, considering that doing it correctly would have resulted in an immediate snapping of my neck.

My vision starts to blur and I begin to lose the ability to hear, causing everything to sound muffled. The only noise I can hear is my heartbeat, which is rapidly increasing in speed, and my own choking.

I continue to kick, struggling to escape from the tight rope that's wrapped around my throat. Just when I hope it's the end, I hear a familiar voice.

"Taylor?" my mom shouts, although her voice sounds muffled to me. She must have grown suspicious when she heard my chair crashing to the floor and a lamp shattering, or perhaps my gagging is louder than I realized. Through my blurred vision, I'm able to see my door swing open. This action is followed by a high-pitched scream that the whole neighborhood had to have heard.

"Peter! Come in Taylor's room!" she exclaims. Due to my blurred vision, I'm unable to witness my father's reaction. But I'm able to see his body move closer to mine before my vision fades to total darkness and my hearing vanishes completely.