So here I am, an eighteen year old boy on a website designed for sad teenage girls and I’m expected to talk about the “perks” of being me? Okay fine if it will keep her happy and I’ll be able to come out more often then FINE I’ll write! Hm some perks? Well, I had a milkshake last night so that’s cool or whatever. Man I don’t think I can sit here and pretend there are perks to being myself. I can’t even be myself! I’m 18 and a boy and I’m trapped in a woman’s body, let me tell you going to the bathroom and reaching for your cock only to find you don’t have one is not a perk. Going to clubs and bringing the hottest guy in there home only to realize I can’t fuck him is not a perk. I came in last night because this crazy ***** had a melt down and needed me to man the ship for a bit, but she really had the nerve to his her wallet. Like why?! I’m not Ellie. I’m not going to order a large pizza or go roller skating. Uggggh okay satisfied?! I wrote a journal entry in the World Wide Web so everyone can experience our crazy and those who don’t understand it are sure to discredit it. This isn’t a good idea I just hope Elizabeth wakes up and sees it for what it is.
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I know how this may be like every cliche sad story. Girl and boy date for a long time, girl beaks up with boy, boy then becomes depressed. I used to not understand how people could become so deepened in depression all because they get dumped. This all changed this past few months.
I dated a girl, let’s call her Amy, for over three years. As it has it, we had actual chemistry together as that’s how we met in college. It was a true love at first sight. Amy and I in the later years planned everything for our dream wedding and confessed to me if I were to propose, she’d immediately say yes.
We broke up because I worked late and never had a chance to see her. This is when all hell broke loose. I lost twenty pounds do to lack of sleep and no eating in two months. I lost my job because I was always depressed. I lost my car because I didn’t have a job. I dropped out of school because I kept missing class. And to put the cherry on everything, my mom recently passed.
I hurt every day. Everything I eat I throw up. I’m emotionless and in pain all the time. I think about suicide non stop and the best way to do it. Because I don’t want to leave my family behind, I haven’t done it but the urge is on the tipping point.
All I can think to myself, should I OD or drown in the ocean where no one would have to worry about me nor find me?
Im a fourteen year old boy, i have no friends and my parents dont give a fuck about me… I dont need anybody to help me with my problems, I need someone who knows how i feal…
I’ve gotta say what I’ve gotta say, and then I swear I’ll go away.
Let’s see, I want to be a girl, which is still hard for me to wrap my head around, even after explicitly knowing it for two years now, up until that point, I’d started to feel quite weird indeed.
I felt numb/drugged/whatever, sometimes I felt like my brain was the only part of me that was alive, and it felt like it was burning, I was wondering why I always found girls more interesting company, but not ‘interesting’ company, even I find some girls pretty attractive, but when I’m out and I see a girl, I think one of two things:
1. I wonder what she’s like, what she does in her life, how she feels, etc. Weird? Probably…
2. I wish I could be her/be like her.
When I’m getting ready for something, I like to imagine what I’d be wearing if I were a girl, it hurts, I know I shouldn’t do that to myself, I know some people wait a lot longer than I have to transition, I know some people never live long enough to transition because it simply hurts too much, but it hurts to much for me to care, it hurts to much for me to do anything at all.
I barely feel human anymore, I just want to curl up and die sometimes.
I was foolish enough to crush hard on a boy, which got really bad when he got a girlfriend and I still had to work with them (film stuff and all), I even attacked one of my friends over it, ‘regret’ doesn’t quite say it, I hid near a maintenance room for half the day, and I only came out for the last lesson.
Now I avoid this particular boy like the plague because he turned out to be a bit of a dick, either that or I’m still pissed that he has a girlfriend and a job in the film industry now, and I’m… me/it/whatever.
Yes, I’ve told some of my friends, none of them care, they just hugged me and said ‘it gets better’… should I be mad or am I being crazy again? ONE OF THEM ACTUALLY FORGOT ABOUT IT, WHAT. THE. FUCK? They say it’s good to ignore people’s differences, I think it would be better to actually accept them… seriously…
No, I haven’t told my family, it wouldn’t help much, I was hoping to come out the day I moved and not give them my address… that way they couldn’t guilt trip/bully/kill me, I think it’s more me not trusting anyone than them genuinely being like that, good god, I get so paranoid sometimes…
I’m not sure if transitioning will fix anything, I’m not sure if I’ll even get the chance to transition, either way, there’s a special place in hell for me, hopefully it’s among some interesting people 😛
“Endurance” what does endurance mean? Hi everyone! I’m new to this site, but I’m sure we are all here for the same reason. We have suicidal thoughts or have actually attempted to take our life. I was diagnosed with ADHD at 9. At age 11 I was diagnosed with depression. I was never abused nor was I bullied in school, but I was always lonley when it came to socialize with others, I never thought that being alone was a bad thing. I actually liked being alone, but I came to realize that I had no friends. I have a family who cares A lot for me, but little did I apreciate that. I attempted to take my life 4 times. Hospitalized in 3 different hospitals, little did I know how it would affect me when I arrived at the hospital. I was 12, I had the ugliest feelings about myself, I literally hated myself. But upon arriving to the hospital, I was scared, I couldnt believe that I was there because I tried to kill myself. I cried every night for my parents. But something changed when friends and family came by to see me…I had about 7 visits in one day. And everyone would just stare. Afted visiting hour was over, a boy came up to me and asked, “were all those people your family? Why are you here if you have all these people coming to see you, they love you.” Boy did that make me think. Why am I deppressed? Till this day on I still have thoughts of hurting myself. But thats why I have to keep on enduring! Keep my hopes bright. We all have a cloud raining on us, but eventually a beautiful rainbow will come out. Do not feel scared to talk to someone about how you feel, be honest and just pour out your thoughts. No one can judge you, we are all imperfect human beings trying to be good. Suround yourself with positive thoughts. You are a precious jewl to those who love you!
I went to doctors yesterday and have gota mild eating disorder because I have a fear of gaining weight 🙁 it’s kinda hard cause I also have depression and get a lot of thoughts and everyday is hard. Social worker contacted me yesterday saying if I was safe and I feel the doctor has told them stuff I told them all my levels of trust have gone 🙁 I feel major down and I’m in pain a lot with my back and have cluster headaches a lot too I am also anemic so I bruise easily and I’m quite pale. I have about two friends I’ll talk to about everything but some how I dunno how to talk about this :/ its easier for me to write down how I feel and what’s going on. I am still cutting as at college I’m getting bullied for being pale and ‘ill looking’cutting helps for a while it forgets about the pain that others make me feel but then when it stops the pain comes back :/ I dunno whether to go to counseling sessions on Wednesdays because I dont want them contacting my parents about it as my mom has made it clear that ‘cutters are freaks and ugly’ 🙁 it’s hard because I’ve started smoking too and doing wreckless things like walking in the road when a car is coming and walking on the edge of a bridge :/.
I know some of the posts don’t make sense so ill introduce myself I’m Shannon I’m 17 and I go to sixth form in UK. When I was 9 years old my mom told me I was fat and that I needed to be on a special diet. I thought my mom has looking out for me but what se didn’t realise was I developed bulimia and after every meal I had my family became more concerned about it. I was also at this stage getting hit and my family started to fall apart. Things started getting better and then at 11 I got bullied at secondry school and hardly made friends I got told I was the ugly sister out of my siblings so then I would hide my lunch in my room and start cutting because no one would say anything nice about me and I thought something was wrong with me. Then one day my mom could smell something in my room and after school she took me to the house and had a go at me and I started to cry she laughed at me and said ill always be ugly Jo matter how much I lose weight. I went into a deep depression at the age of 12 my granddad passed away and my mom was grieving a lot and started drinking she got abusive and started getting angrier everyday and at 13 I started my old habits of throwing food away and cutting myself as I was being bullied more and family friends would laugh about me and always say bad. I started doing a lot in the house being helpful but at the age of 15 I been in charge of keeping the house clean doing washing and making beds I finally got too much work to do and I randomly passed out I was diagnosed with anemia and my appendix was inflamed I went to hospital and they refused to take it out I we in pain and then I started talking to this guy who I fellin love with as you know he changed my life then we would argue all the time . He is now not with me and I am no longer allowed in his life he just thinks nothing of me anymore which hurts as I did love him but now hes moved on. I started college at 16 and met my boy bestfriend I started liking him when I was with my bf with confused me I am now 17 and life is getting abit better now apart from not eating much and hiding food again and a few cutting relapses but I have my two friends here for me and I told my boy bestfriend how I felt and things and he’s said he’s never going to leave me 🙂
I just hope one day it will be completely better and life will be good
Hey I’ve decided the plan of killing myself on the 25th is not going ahead. In my other post I talked a lot about a guy who I lost only to find out that he got with another girl 2 days after we broke up.. I was sad about it and it made me think that he couldn’t of loved me that much :/ it would of been a year I was with him but hes moved on and I’m kinda happy for him because hes happy.. I have this guy friend who’s like my bestfriend he has been there for me a lot through everything that has gone on and I feel better with him around he makes me feel better and happier. I still have feelings for my ex but my boy bestfriend I think I’m starting to like him more because I did like him before I got with my ex and we became close we are literally the same people 🙂 I feel kinda down though cause I want tell him but dont want to wreck the friendship and I also dont want to tell him about some of the thoughts of suicide I get :/ someone give me advice I dunno if ts because hes there or if I actually like him 🙁
So you think you have had a bad life? Well let me give you some insight on what a bad life is…I was conceived by a teenage girl with a teenage boy, of whom she does not know who my father may be. She had planned on having me in her bedroom closet, and then who knows what would have happened to me.
After discovering that my egg donor was pregnant, my grandparents forced her give put me up for adoption.
I cant ant say anything really terrible while I was a child, other than being molested by my “brother”.
I was a rather strong willed child, with severe anger issues, and was very defiant! I had learning disabilities and struggled throughout school. I did graduate by the grace of God.
I was expected to go to college, however I was not ready to deal with that stress again, so instead I met man who was everything my parents hated! A drug addict, an alcholoic, he was abusive and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for him. I stole from my family to support his habits, I was alienated from my family and soon I was pregnant with our son. Before he was a year old I was pregnant with our daughter and married.
After a little over 1 1/2 years he was involved with another woman, and she was pregnant. Obviously we divorced. However I was so distraught over losing him that was my attempt with suicide.
I had a mental breakdown and was completely incoherent. My mother attempted to help with no avail.
I eventually pulled myself together and moved on with my life. Waiting for the next thing to happen.
After several attempts at relationships that did nothing but fail, I ended up in one that was better than my ex-husband at least for the first 10 years. He ended up being completely nuts and became verbally abusive. So we split.
I ended up with man (boy) much younger than me! He was 26 I was 38! He took advantage of me in every way possible! Money mostly! However during this relationship I developed a pretty expensive weed habit. Unfortunately during this entire ordeal I was too consumed with this guy and my habit that I completely failed my two children.
I got out of that relationship, however the habit did not stop! I continued to smoke.
Amyhow I ended up meeting someone new, someone different. A breath of freah air. He showed me a different way and I quit it all. However it was too late for me and the kids! They decided to move to their dads (the drug addict, alcoholic), because they couldn’t stand being with me anymore. I can’t blame them it was a really bad time in my life!
So the relationship with the new different, breath of fresh air guy ended because he had feelings for his soon to be ex-wife! I was crushed yet again, and now am completely alone!
My entire family knows what happened with the kids! I have been excommunicated from both my biological family and my adoptive family.
I have only a few friends and they are more concerned with their own lives than to try to be interested in mine.
I may be missed for a month or so but I truly believe I was a mistake to begin with and have been nothing but a disaster since. Everyone would be better off without me. Oh my kids haven’t seen or talked to me in over a year. Happy Mother’s Day.
I believe i married the wrong boy. I hate his fucking guts. He is such an asswhole with no regard for anyones feelings but his own. I want to leave him but im stuck. only other option is to die kill myself leaving behind a beautiful baby. Why stay with him is the question i ask myself. I fucking hate this guy. Stupid dick. I wish i had the balls eboygh to completely exit frim this shitty earth. Buuuuuut no im a big fat scardy cat. This is bullshit.
Dreaming about having a boy’s body. Walking around with toned arms, flat chest. And I’m happy and free, ya know?
And then I wake up in a foreign cage. And the family thinks I’m a possessed “girl.”
Rather be dead than live a bloody muddy ruddy fucking lie.
I have a problem. The first step is admitting it, right? That is what they say on TV. So I am going to put on my big boy pants and fess up… I’m addicted to pills. Sleep aids, cough medicine, herbal supplements, antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, anything! Let’s put it this way, if I am taking a walk and see a blister pack on the ground with one mystery pill inside, I have to restrain myself from picking it up. I’ve stolen medication. I’ve taken handfuls of it. I’ve lied to get it. I just can’t seem to stop. But it’s only because I a so damn miserable and… empty.
I’ve been medicated since I was a pre-teen. Ritalin and Paxil first. Zoloft for awhile. Seroquel, Prozac, Risperdal, Abilify, Topamax, Neurontin are just a few of the medications the doctors have tried on me. I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, depression w/ delusions, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, gender identity disorder, and one intrepid lunatic even went so far as to say I had dissociative identity disorder. All these diagnoses came from different folk, none of them in agreement, and all of them wanted me to try a new wonder drug. And now, nearly 30 years old, I find myself completely enslaved by those pesky pharmaceuticals.
You might think someone with so many labels under their belt and a need to be so often medicated is a danger to society, themselves, or, at the very least, is a creepy awkward person. I promise I am not. Hate them (and love them) as I may, the medications that I don’t abuse DO work… mostly. I function in society. I work. I can pretend to love and have real-pretend relationships. The thing is though, and what brings me here is, I am completely empty. Dead inside. Through act or drug or nature, I am the living dead. My waking hours are spent staring at the walls. I rarely go outside or see friends. I find sex and human contact abhorrent. I derive no pleasure from things that make the normals happy. I don’t have any hobbies but for reading erotic gay fiction which, I swear to gods, sometimes is my soul reason to exist. I hate living so much that I escape reality at every chance through nap or maladaptive daydreaming. I live through the hundreds of characters in my head and when I am woken from my fantasy and the crushing weight of reality rains down, I reach for the pills. I just have to alter my state of mind. Desperately. My lucid thoughts hum to the constant tune of “I’d rather be dead.”
Is it chemical? Is my brain just an unhappy place? Is it all the drugs? Is it situational? I would be on a quest to find out could I summon the gumption to do anything but snuggle in bed with a plate of pizza rolls. I am positive there are many contributing factors. The cocktail assaulting my mind and liver daily is bound to have its effect as we know there are always side-effects to medicating. My diet doesn’t help. My sordid past, which should remain in the past but comes out to bite me now and then. Lack of money. Loneliness. But there are other things too that are harder to talk about. There are two black clouds that rule my everyday. The secret I cannot share and the one that I packed away.
I cannot tell you the most important, painful, and unfortunate piece of information about me. I can’t tell anyone. It is a secret that will go with me to the grave, I hope. But I can tell you the second most vital thing I keep classified. My identity. My TRUE identity. Batman! No, just kidding.
(I hesitate to write this because someone is going to have a problem with it. Alas.)I am transgender. Though I use the term loosely, as I am not transitioning currently. I won’t go all cliche and say I feel like a man trapped in a woman’s body but I will say… Okay that is exactly how I would describe it. I’ve never felt right. Never. When I was a kid, I had no idea I was a girl. Didn’t think I was male either. I simply was. As I grew older I tried very hard to be more female because people kept telling me that’s what I was and, in truth, I like(d) many things that are generally attributed to females. Dolls for example. Lets me play god! But I also enjoyed wrestling, football, being a complete show off and nekkid lady magazines. I was you average run of the mill young pervert… I mean boy. And girl. I had it all. Then puberty. Things got awkward. I tried to fit in but being both mannish and slightly insane does not endear one to peers. Girls beat me up a lot. I survived.
When I became an adult, I learned the world was much bigger than the trailer park I grew up in. I also learned a lot about myself. I traveled. I schooled. I ditched organized religion and it was the best decision of my life. I decided to be more open with myself and, at 23, came to identify as bisexual. I met someone and through her I met a transman and really started to think about my own identity. I knew I’d never been a girl. But was I a man? Maybe I fell outside the binary? It was a lot to take in but ultimately it came down to this… What was between my legs was not right, had never been right, would never be right, and disgusted me. My chest. No go. Those hours I’d spend weeping, head buried in my knees because my body was the wrong one, had to stop. I wanted to change. So I started to… But it was futile. Soon threats were made. I was assured I would be disowned and unloved. Abandoned. Family members came out of the woodwork to rabidly reject me as soon as they caught wind of my plan. It’s one thing to act like a boy, I guess. It is another to dress like one. So as soon as it began, my quest was over.
Being mentally ill means I rely on my family a lot. I have never lived on my own but, like a doobie in a frat house, have passed through the hands of several family members. I am usually sane but when I am not it is my family that picks up the pieces. And so, I remain as I am to appease them. I live in fear of failure.
And it kills me.
Fortunately I often feel nothing though. Like I said, I am dead inside. I’ve tried to kill myself and failed. I consider it a lot but am too much of a coward to go about it. I don’t want to die because life is hard or because I am sad or because bad things have happened in my past. I forgive those who have wronged me and could almost be considered happy. If I felt feelings. But I just don’t want to continue. I am bored. There is nowhere for me to go. There is nothing to do but sleep. I am tired all the time. So tired. I think about my family and feel like I should be more considerate of them, when it comes to suicide, but I can’t muster up the emotion. I lack the emotion for just about all things. And, for the most part, I pretend not to exist. I detach myself from my body and live in my head. I sleep and eat. I read filth occasionally and that, and the existence of the characters I’ve made up for my stories, is pretty much my sole reason to go on. I am just so empty. I just so badly want a reason and a will to live. And gods do I want to stop popping every pill I see!
(If anything I have written has upset of offended you, I am sorry)
If you’re on this website, I genuinely feel for you.
If you’re suicidal, I genuinely feel for you.
I never used to when I first came here, a long time ago now. But I do now.
I know what that pit feels like. It’s very cold, and small and absolutely terrifying. And when you’re in it, that fear is very real. That’s the thing normal people don’t get, the thought of suicide to a suicidal person, 9 times out of 10, is absolutely terrifying.
Pain can’t be measured on a scale.
Suicides can’t be ranked.
A death should never become just another number.
But hell, what do I know? I’m technically still a teenager. The things I’ve gone through are nothing compared to the dozens of stories I read here a day.
With the greatest of respect, I am surprised so many of you are still alive. If half of your stories are true, you have suffered the most unimaginable agony I can bear to read.
But that’s the thing, pain can’t truly be compared. So I have no more right to say that you should have killed yourself from what you’ve gone through, than you do of saying I shouldn’t because my pain is nothing.
So when I tell you I spend my days waking up at whatever hour I want, watching TV and playing games all day, walking my dog in the evening and chatting to friends online, you reply with; Your life is great, you have everything, there’s no reason for you to want to die.
All I can reply is; Fuck you. Sure I’m a privileged, spoilt little white boy who wants for nothing, but this isn’t how I imagined my life. This isn’t how things were. I get that life changes. Sometimes life deals you a crappy hand and you just have to play through. But what about when the deck gets reshuffled and all of the cards are blank? I had a life. I had a house. I had 2 jobs. I had an education. I had a relationship. I had friends. I had a life and a future. Now I just can’t see any of that.
There is no way for me to slip back into that old life.
And I get that people care. My family, friends. But it’s not the same. They’re not asking because they’re interested, they’re asking because they’re scared. I have terrified people and that will never go away. They won’t ever stop fearing for me. So I’ll probably do something that will tear their hearts to shreds. Blow a hole in their lives. But they won’t live with the fear. They will never have to be scared again.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem. How do I know that? Do I just have to keep waiting this storm out, hoping one day it’ll finally pass over? I have been depressed for pretty much every single day since September 2014. I haven’t asked for help because I’m ashamed. I will never ask for help because I don’t want it.
I am pathetic. Rich little white boy. Boo hoo.
then I could at least make money by prostituition… and I would be able to get laid… as an autistic boy i have no skills and cant make money or get some *****… nothing is in my favor..
No horny white boy, i do not want to see your penis
no horny white boy i do not want to exchange pictures
Yes horny white boy i do not want anything between us
No that does not mean come closer, be warned i have scissors
No horny white boy that does not mean i am a racist
No horny white boy this is not because your white
Horny white boy i wouldn’t take penis pictures regardless
No horny white boy just because your white does not make you right
Get me past blood
Past the next step
Let me go blind
To the crippled
To that hospital image
To the dark colors
To how I got here
Let me go deaf
To the loud ringing
To the insecure patient
To the crying little boy
To the prosecutor
Let me not feel
The needles in my arm
Your razor blade tongue
The gnawing on my bones
I don’t believe that dead people speak
Nor that prophets walk on water
That just leaves me with
All those years of scrambled nonsense
And broken Angels
Title says all. They don’t know what’s behind my blue eyes. They don’t know the troubled angry boy trapped inside this gross bleeding body
This is a pretty self-indulgent post, sorry. You people are hurting, and deserve something other than a selfish teen’s rant. Please stop reading if it’s wasting your time. It just helps to scream, sometimes. This really belongs in a journal, rather than a forum. Here goes.
I’m hurting others right now. My mother’s saddened, my grandmother’s angry, my aunt has lost respect for me. I’m dressing a certain way and it’s hurting them. My mom’s fighting an eating disorder and my guy clothes are bothering her – hell, I’m her only daughter, so that’s one more thing drifting away from her.
My grandma sat me down and told me that I was a selfish asshole. Asked me why I was dressing like a boy, why my brother announced that I secretly wanted to cut my hair off. She asked if I was gay. She asked if I was trying to steal attention from my depressed mother. Of course not, I said.
My grandma is passionate. And religious. Those two mixed together produce something quite opinionated. Don’t get me wrong – she’s a wonderful, nurturing person. She cares for others.
Tell me, honestly, please. Am I subconsciously trying to rebel against my hospitalized mother and my controlling grandmother. I don’t think I am. At least, I don’t want to. I love them both – my mother needs all the support she can get, and according to some people, I’m not helping. No matter the hugs, the visits, the thousand “I love you’s”, the legitimate concern for her – I’m still an asshole.
Should I just let it go? Just endure the girl clothes? As long as my mother feels supported, and her relatives accept me? The confidence I feel in men’s clothing is shot when my aunt says I look tacky, or my uncle mocks me.
I don’t want to lose these people. They helped me through depression. I’ve kept this boy thing a secret from a ton of people. Just recently I’m dressing openly.
I don’t want to lose these people. Sure, I feel claustrophobic around them, but they helped me through depression.
I’m at my dad’s and I don’t want to leave. He accepts me, at least.
Why the fuck couldn’t I have been born a boy. It would spare a ton of confusion and disappointment. Plus I wouldn’t feel like a freaky asshole.
Sorry. I’m really sorry. You are wonderful, albeit troubled people. I’ve just wasted your time (if anyone even read to this point).
What’s worst, having friends knowing there there then them leaving you. Or never having any real friends.
Ten people in my world have succeeded – that double edged word – in destroying themselves. Father, cousin, nephew, friends, teacher, aunt. Two drownings, two by gunshot, two by hanging, one by jumping, three by medication/suffocation. Broken worlds left behind, but I know the abyss to well to blame any of them. Four men and a boy, five women. Ages 14 to 90. Into the dark. Never, ever far from my mind.
I am just going to kinda summaries my life I started hating myself very young I had nobody and when I did they would leave me because I was never good enough for anybody then I met a boy and thought I loved him but he ended up just using me and then now he tears me down even more than the rest of the people I now self harm constantly even though I’ve don’t it for a long time it has gotten worse and right now I feel everyone would be better without me