Time To Move On

It is my intention to leave this life.

To start, I would say that I am not in that space where suicide helplines call “pain is greater than capability to bear.” I am not doing this on the spur of a moment’s depression or of a single terrible setback. No, none of these apply to me.

Let me share my story.

(1)

I was physically abused as a child. My father had rules that were only known to him. His mercurial moods did not help. From as young as pre-school (I do not remember exactly when they started), he would beat me, with his hands, with sticks, with canes. I don’t remember a number of them. A lot of my relatives knew of it but (at that time) were unable to intervene. I remember being examined by an aunt after one such beating. I remember a bit of gossip that went around that more than once, I was beaten until I shat and peed myself.

I remember a time before that. I was an inquisitive, precocious and happy child. I no longer recognise that child. I miss that child and I think that if given the chance to grow up, that child would have become a truly wonderful person. That child no longer exists.

(2)

School was escape in a way. In the end it did not become better than home. You see, at school, one requires some basic social skills. Skills one would have been nurtured with at home. Being an only child, I became a loner. Being extremely intelligent (triple-9 society level), naturally, I became an outcast.

(3)

I also had gender identity disorder, that is to say, I am of one gender and my body is of another. Unfortunately that diagnosis did not come for many, many years. I was in a Catholic mission school, so my school mates were all of the same gender as my body. My personality did not have any chance of growth.

(4)

After school and university and the army, I spent many years in limbo. I made money so that I could make more money. Relationships were not fulfilling. Friendships were just a way to pass time. Mother passed, followed by father several years later. I buried 2 strangers whom I lived with all my life.

I was perhaps free. I made so much money that I could be in a position to make some serious money. I quit everything to play online games in my apartment above the city. It didn’t make any sense then, it still doesn’t make any sense now.

(5)

Religion failed. I curse the concept of organised religion.

(6)

Being alone, my brain went into overdrive. My true gender wanted to assert itself. Herself. I never had a chance. But she and I looked in the mirror, and we knew it could not possibly be. We – she and I – hate, we truly despise, the transgendered. Is this perhaps the cruelest blow? I don’t understand it but I have come to terms with it. Like a character in a role-playing game, I was given attributes. I had very large positive ones, and I had extremely large negative ones. My net character score was negative.

(7)

There is no way I can be who I am. Going on is meaningless. I don’t wish to chase after riches. I don’t have the ability to nurture relationships. I don’t want to deal with the unending brainwashing that I am subjected to every day.

(8)

I would feel sorry for myself. I would tell myself to stop feeling sorry for myself. I would tell myself to be strong. I would tell myself there are people worst off than I. The next minute, the next hour, the next day, I would have to do it all over again.

(End)

I have done my research. Christopher Docker’s book is immensely helpful. I have chosen my method. I have procured the tools. Now, my story is done.