soooo
I've decided that before October ends I need to tell my family about the fact that I'm struggling with gender dysphoria. I can't deal anymore. I want to wear bright red lipstick. I want to wear mascara. I want to cross my legs and hold my chin on my fist femininely while I enjoy my favorite cup of coffee at my favorite cafe.
I went to the beach today in makeup, shortshorts, and my favorite bright pink button up shirt. I didn't shave my legs or anythng because fvckyou, women have body hair it's not that big of a deal so get over it you chauvanistic fvcks. For a while I felt good. Really good. But, about halfway up the beach I started getting stalked by these disgusting motherfvcking brodude transplants that had that "we're gonna jump and rob you, you fvcking faggot" look in their eyes and I was fvcking terrified. I don't understand what's happening to my city. This is supposed to be a safe place for people like me. Why are these ugly, repulsive, subhuman "lifeforms" even alive? Let alone living in SF? Go back to whereever the fvck it is you're from, take your brodude buds with you and have your fvcking brewskies and casual sex with predominantly ignorant and self-loathing women somewhere else. I had my knife on me, I never leave as Kelly without it. And frankly I don't know what I would've done if they attacked me.
I am really scared. I don't know how my folks are going to react. They've said things that are transphobic before and it really concerns me. I remember my mom's girlfriend saying something about me to the extent of "so what, you can't handle the fact that you're a faggot so you have to dress up in drag and fvck lesbians instead???" She was wasted at the time but still. I'm really worried. My family and the short list of friends I have here are literally all I have and it would emotionally bankrupt me if my fam bailed on me. I'm in a really uncomfortable way right now and I really need any and all advice anyone here can spare because I can't fvcking deal right now. I can't.
__________________
I spit bullets in my feet
Every time I speak
So I write instead
And still people want me dead
~msc
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