The Year I Died

This Part of Me

Why?

One word. One syllable. Three letters. Why?

One simple word holds so much meaning and power. One word tells a million stories and symbolizes the struggles of a million people. It is the one word we whisper when we cry ourselves to sleep at night. The word we scream to the sky when we feel as if there is no hope left. The word that resonates in our minds our entire lives as we are filled with anger and regret. 

Why? 

Why is the world so cruel and unforgiving? Why does the world curse us with unbearable burdens? Why are we forsaken with hatred for ourselves and others? What has the human race done to be how it is? 

I want to shout my misery into the face of God himself. I want to scream at him and tell him to strike me down. I want to tell him to give me a better life. I want him to hear my agony and know that he did this to me. 

He made me this way. He made me into something that no one understands. Something that no one likes. I would do anything to plead with him to make me who I am meant to be. I wanted to be rid of all the thoughts in my head. I wanted to be happy, to be able to live my life without having the shame of my past. 

What did I do to deserve this fate? How could one person have this much hatred thrust down upon their shoulders? What did I do to deserve the wrath of God? I just try to make it through my days, hidden. I try to blend in with the crowd so no one can pick me out. I allowed myself to be seen today. I allowed myself to be noticed. I allowed myself to be vulnerable. This part of me that wants so desperately to be out and free won today. And I paid dearly for it. 

Why?

Why must I be the way that I am? Why must I have been born into this body? I can never escape. What did I do? Was I bad in a past life? Is this God's way of punishing me? How badly I must have pissed him off to deserve this. 

I just want to be free of this curse. To end it all and just be happy. The agony of waking up in the morning in unbearable. The haunting realization that I will never be how society would like, tears at my skin. I cry every morning and every night, praying to God that I will wake up different. Praying that I will wake up perfect. 

The demon's seem to win every day. God never answers my prayers. Sometimes I wonder if he's not as loving as the churches make him out to be. Sometimes I imagine him as a cold and unforgiving man, ready to smite anyone who speaks against him. 

It has to be the demon's. That's what I tell myself every time I wake up and see the same body. It comforts me. Maybe God isn't ignoring me after all, maybe he's just being blocked by the evil that lurks in the shadows. 

The demon's always win those battles.

Today they won a battle that should have never been fought.

They were tearing at me, I could feel it. My skin started to bleed, old wounds re-opened. I could feel the blood running down my body. I could feel the sting of their fingernails as they cut into my frail skin. They kept throwing punches at my skull, bashing it in. It hurt so bad. I couldn't do anything except sit there and take it. My hair was getting yanked out. The hair I had worked so hard on growing out and styling so I might be beautiful for once, ripped out of my scalp. 

I felt so helpless and scared. I wanted to cry out for help, but I knew that would only get me beaten more. I allowed them to ruin me. I allowed them to hurt me. I knew there was no use in resisting. Regardless of how I chose to go about it, they would've won. They would have overpowered me. I am weak. I am nothing. Nobody would ever see me for who I am, and they have showed me that. 

They have showed me, that no matter how much I don't want this, they want it even less than I do. They wanted me to be how society tells me to be. They wanted me to conform to the rules. They wanted me dead.

I wish I could tell them I hate it more than they do. I wish I could tell them that sometimes I wish I could assault myself. I wish they knew how much I hate who I am. 

I wish I could tell them that it's a horrible burden to bear, being a lady with a penis.