But then I don’t. To be honest I only have one reason to not die and keep going. One. And that is that I do not want to die in a girls body. I don’t want my birthname written on my gravestone. I’d be a girl in everyones memory. Only the thought of it makes me feel nauseous. I want to be remembered as the person I really am, so that’s why I can’t die yet. Even though it’s hard to be patient and wait because my dysphoria never leaves me alone, there are no breaks in between, it’s constantly present.
But I still consider it. I consider suicide on my worst days because then I am so very sure that I can not take it anymore. There are two kinds of pain: the one you can get used to, so you don’t feel anything anymore. Everything is just numb, to the point that you’d maybe even prefer the pain. And then there’s the kind you simply can’t get used to no matter how hard you try, no matter how long it already hurts you. It just never gets better. And that’s the kind of pain dysphoria gives you.
Yesterday I’ve tried to explain why I’m so utterly disgusted by my genitals and in the end I was lost in words. “disgusting” wasn’t disgusting enough. I can’t describe it, it’s such a strong feeling that it can not be put into words.
I don’t even want to touch it. I despise washing it. I don’t even shower regularly because I hate having to touch my body. I hate having to look at it. In the shower I’m lost and unprotected. No place to hide. So that’s why I clean myself once a week, twice at most and only if I feel strong enough to bear it. Hell, I can’t even sleep normally! Lying on my side means the lumps of fat will squish together and my curves are more present, so I have to lie on my stomach or back. I often throw up before I go to sleep because it makes me feel exhausted and tired which helps me fall asleep faster. It’s upsetting that I’m still so much into my eating disorder. But in the end my dysphoria is the reason why I’m even suffering one. That’s why I’m almost 100% certain that it’ll go away once I have fully transitioned. Sure, it’s still not only a habit but an addiction, so it’ll take time, but I’m sure it’ll be so, so much easier while feeling comfortable in my own body.
It’s my body, but it often feels like the body of a stranger. I know this body, but at the same time I do not. Not one bit. It’s a cage, a prison. And I can’t exchange it, I can’t just swap bodies with somebody else. Sadly it’s my burden and I have to make the best out of it. Even though it’s simply unfair. What have I done to deserve this torture?
Sometimes I want to die. But then I don’t.
Because I want to die as a boy. As a man. Physically.
But when I have reached that goal, there’s nothing left to die for.
That’s why I will stay alive and fight and I hope you will too.