When will it end?

My name is Ari. At least that's what I'd like to be called. I'm not a very good writer and spelling can be an issue for me so I apologize if the book is hard to read. I really started this book off of impulse. I genuinely have nothing to tell you guys but I thought that I could make a book off of my life and how I cope and stuff. First things first lets talk about my name. My name is actually Kim but I personally don't like being called that name. My sister changed her name which resulted in a strained relationship with my dad for a good two months or so. I personally want to change my name but I don't want a strained relationship with my dad so I decided I'd go with a variation of my middle name. My middle name is Wangari but it shortened it to Ari because it sounds more like "my style". I don't really do good with transitions so I'm going to dive right into this topic. In 2020 everything was colorful and people could be who they wanted to be without people judging. Fast forward to 2024, everyone is fake and their not who they actually are. This brings me to the fact that I am transgender. It's horrible I know. I should also say that this book was written y a 14 year old so if anything seems sketchy or iffy, that's probably why. In 2020 I came to the realization that I was. Deep down I always was trans, I just didn't have a name for it. By the age of 6 I hated wearing dresses. By the age of 7 and 8 I was doing my best to dress masculine using the girls clothes my mom bought me. I would use things such as blue flannels and grey hats and I would wear them backwards. By the age of 10 they called me a "tomboy" and I was wearing a tie to school everyday to school. Fast forward a couple years and at the age of 13 and I found out that being trans was a thing. So clearly this was not a "oh my gosh being trans sounds cool!", this was a "oh my gosh that's me". For me it always felt normal. Wearing a dress made me super uncomfortable and wearing blue flannels didn't. I didn't feel out of p[lace or anything. Yet. Dressing up as a boy and wanting to "be a boy" felt normal to me. I didn't know how to express it but it always felt normal to me. My mom as you could imagine wasn't to happy about this. My mom wants me to be a spitting image of her. I'm not that image. I HAVE AN OLDER SISTER! WAS SHE NOT THE IMAGE!? Not that I'd want her to be but like, how was she not the image my mom wanted? Hell, she was "more of a girl" then me. My mom thought it was a phase but this "phase" lasted 9 years. My mom then started trying to get me to do more "girly" things such as painting my nails and wearing dresses and stuff. Obviously I said no but I knew what she was trying to do. It use to hurt every time she did try but I just got used to it. My dad on the other hand didn't care. He said "as long as you get good grades you an go be trans or gay or whatever". I took that as a "he didn't care" so I was pretty happy. Lets talk about sixth grade. In 2021 I was in sixth grade. That's when people slowly became more judging. I have an awesome lunch table of friends. They are super supportive, some of them being LGBTQIA themselves. They were and still are my happy place. In sixth grade I came out to them and they supported me. I was so happy I made the mistake of thinking everyone else would support. I regret thinking that to this day. It haunts me. A couple weeks later I came out on TikTok which was mainly followed by everyone in my grade. I HATE MYSELF FOR DOING THAT. The next day the whole school knew and they basically just made fun of me. On top of that, my parents were fighting more and my mom was trying harder than ever to get me to be more "girly". And to top it all off, I came out to my school counselor who told my parents. My pulled me aside and told me to my face. "You are not trans". That hurt like hell. Ultimately this led to a deep depression and trust issues due to many incidents. I was in it for about a year I would say. I remember that year like it was yesterday because of how bad I was feeling. I stopped caring. Legitimately I stopped caring for everything. Especially school. I remember the routine like crazy. Wake up, get ready, go downstairs and listen to my mom complain about my appearance because I stopped caring, leave for school, get to school and hang out with my friends/safe space, go through school and do absolutely nothing, get home, cry, sleep, eat, watch TikTok or just lay in bed and stare thinking about my horrible life, cry some more, more TikTok or staring, and then sleep. Every. Single. Day. Oh! And don't forget the wonderful gift of bullying everyday! Everyday of that year I was suicidal. Every single day of that year I would have thoughts of killing myself at least 3 times a day. There were times where I would attempt, but they failed. Essentially I cried so much while trying that I couldn't see what I was doing and I was weak. With each attempt that failed, I'd get more depressed. I then eventually turned to self harm. That was something I could do while crying because I didn't need to see what I was doing. As long as you made the cut, it was fine. Then you'd make another one, and another, and another. People always said that self harm was addictive but I never saw how. Even when I was doing it. Looking back I think I see how but its fine I guess. Most people cut because it gives them control. At least that's how I see it. I cut because I couldn't take the mental pain anymore. Essentially, I felt so bad on the inside that I thought that if I felt pain on that outside that it would match. Mind you, I was pretending to be okay at school. It didn't do crap but I still tried to convince people I was okay. Basically, I thought that if I cut and have the outside physically hurting it will bring myself to the truth that I wasn't okay. Deep down I knew I wasn't okay but I wasn't ready to tell anyone that yet. That's partially the counselors fault. I don't know how to describe what I felt when I cut. I felt a relief come over me for a split second. Like the world didn't matter. Like I didn't matter. Everything would go quiet and it would just be me in my empty mind. My mind would clear of thoughts every time I did it. I was 12 turning 13 so I would cry because it stung but I felt...numb every time I cut. I wouldn't say it brought me happiness but it was a way for me to escape from my thoughts. From my mind. From my problems. From the world. Because of those results I'd cut again. And again. And again. That was until my mom found out. Oh my goodness my life really sucked after that. I didn't want my parents to worry so I never told them. Not only that but its hard to tell your parents things sometimes. And on top of that, they were black. That's practically asking for trouble. But first, lets talk about how they found out. During all this chaos my grandma accidently enrolled me in a youth group. My grandmas from Africa so she didn't understand English that well. We went to church with her and one of the members came up to her and asked if we wanted to join. I wanted to say no but I couldn't stop my grandma in time so I was enrolled. Anyways, I was best friends with one of the members in this youth group. I got to comfortable. This haunts me. I will forever blame myself for this. I showed him one of my scars and he told the youth group director and I ended up getting a talk from her and from my mom. The youth group director basically just asked me if I was okay. I always told her I was even though I knew deep down I wasn't. When I got home from that camping trip my mom basically talked to me about getting a therapist. HELL NO! My closest friend just went behind my back and told the director of the group about this. This increased my trust issue problem more. So I ultimately said no to the therapist. After that, I attempted more, the thoughts got worse, cutting got worse, basically everything got worse. Fast forward to seventh grade and everything has gotten a bit better you know. The bullying stopped, my parents still fought but I got used to it, and my grades got better. I decided to give SOME effort into that grade. But I sculpted someone that wasn't me. I was still trans. Ultimately I thought that if I hung out with the "jocks and boys" at my school I would finally accept myself and be seen as at least more masculine. I didn't care about being seen as a boy I at least just wanted to be seen as more masculine. That was the bare minimum. I ultimately made the dumb decision to breakoff from my friends/safe space and join the "jocks and the boys". That was so dumb. The ones I hung out with were always screwing around so I forced myself to screw around to to fit in with them. It didn't work. It earned me a little respect from them but it wasn't enough. I just want to pause and say that there was a limit. This is not one of those "it wasn't enough it was never enough" stories. Anyway, after figuring out that I wouldn't be accepted into the "jocks and boys" group, I knew I couldn't go back to my old friends/safe space. The hated me. However, the screwing around in classes and trolling the teachers got me street cred from this one group of girls at my school so I started hanging out with them. I still screwed around and we had good laughs together. Fast forward to near the end of 7th grade and I started talking to one of my old friends and explained to her as to why I made the dumb mistake and she eventually told the rest of the lunch table and they let me hang out with them again. I was still friends with the girls but they weren't as close to me as my old friends/safe space. HERES WHERE THINGS GET HAPPY! Seventh grade ends and I come back to 8th grade better then ever! I'm looking good and feeling good! I still troll the teachers sometimes but I have real friends and I'm happier then ever. I am now in 9th grade with lots of REAL friends and awesome teachers. I transferred to a new school but still keep in touch with most of my friends from my old school. As for the youth group, I love it! I'm still in it, and absolutely love everyone in it! ESPECIALLY the club directors! I guess the reason I made this book was to inspire people. Things may be hard but I'm here to let you know that if I can do it then so can you! I promise things get better! I want you to learn from the mistakes I made. I WANT YOU TO BE BETTER THAN ME! I know there's going to people out there who are going to agree with the bullies and all that but quite frankly, I don't care. I didn't mean to trauma dump or anything but I wanted to write this to relate to anyone feeling like this and show them that things get better!