What If Being Gay, Wasn't Such a Bad Thing?

What If Being Transgender, Wasn't Such a Bad Thing?

I look over to my right to see a small television screen. On it has my x-Ray. My ribs look chipped.
Looks like I'm not getting out of here anytime soon.
I stare up at the ceiling, my eyes closing and opening automatically. Nothing changes. It's just a white wall, with no action. Plain.

That's how life is. You sit around waiting for things to happen, and they don't. Nothing. You want things to be better, but they won't, and they can't. The simplicity and blandness just take over one day, and all you can do is just sit, and breathe. Nothing changes.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. My mother didn't even come visit me.
She's probably too depressed. Or maybe she doesn't even know I'm here. It's all just more money that we have to pay. More money that we don't have.

I press the button that orders the nurse to come into my room. It beeps until I let go. A few seconds later, Diane opens the door of my room, with a pleasant smile on her face, probably happy because this is the first time I've called her in instead of her checking up on me.
"Yes. Are you alright? Did they give you lunch?"
She asks as she scans the room for a lunch tray.
I shake my head no.
"I don't want to be here anymore."
I say to the nurse, still with a pleasant smile.
"You don't leave until Saturday, Hun."
That's not what I meant.
"Okay."
I just simply say.
She nods.
"I'll bring you your lunch."
She says before closing the door.
I roll my head over to the opposite side of the pillow. Never have I ever wanted to go home so much, ever since dad.

A few hours pass by, and now it's midnight. Mom hasn't come, I don't even know if she called. All I could think about was how I'm gonna die in this hospital, just like my father did.
My dad died of something called STS.
Cancer of the leg. He didn't tell anyone he was hurting, although we knew something was wrong, or maybe I just knew something was wrong.

Everyday Friday, after school, he would go to play cards with the guys at Dylan's Card Shack. One day, I decided that it would be nice to surprise him, so I didn't ride with my, back-then-best-friend, so I walked to the card shack.

When I got there, I opened the door and scanned the area for my father. I didn't see him so I asked one of the workers if he had known where he was. He just looked at me and said he never heard the name before.

Two days later, I ended up being next to him by his bedside, in a hospital at eleven forty five at night. The doctors had told that he's been coming to the hospital to receive any new information, for the past six weeks, but sadly the information only got worse from there. My mother was there too, only she was sobbing into the bed sheets whilst my father only opening and closing his eyes only for a few seconds at a time.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She kept repeating over and over and over again till each word didn't sound like words to me anymore.
Then the monotone beep roared, in our hospital room. My mind went blank, my ears were more alert then ever, focusing in on the screams and noise. My mother tried to say her goodbyes but though she couldn't get the words out, for she was sobbing like the world just collapsed.
Tears filled my eyes, my heart became heavy, my breathing increased drastically, and my legs became weak. I didn't pass out or anything, I just walked out. Onto the pavement outside, onto the busy street, and I stood. In the middle of the street, cars rushing past, I stood. The whirl of one car almost took me down. I closed my eyes, horns blared. I opened them to see, right in front of me was a black jeep. So close, I could touch the emblem of the car without extending my arm. It didn't hit me. I didn't have a scratch on me. Why did it not hit me? It was suppose to hit me. People jumped out of their cars. The cops swarmed and asked if I was alright. I said no. They preceded to asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said no. My mother was standing on the sidewalk of the road. She didn't come rushing towards me, she stood, frozen in time. I don't know if it was her only child, and daughter almost committed suicide or if it was her husband of nineteen years just lost his life to leg cancer. That night the police took me home. My mother, got picked up by a friend. I went into my bedroom, curled under the covers, closed my eyes and didn't sleep for three days. My mother didn't sleep for five. I didn't go to school. My mother quit work. The bullies would beat me up. My mother would be sleeping at five in the afternoon. We got an eviction notice. She would rip them off the door. I was diagnosed with depression, and anxiety. She still hasn't seen a therapist.

I don't wanna be here anymore.

It's now three AM. Everything is quiet except for my heart monitor. The nasty salad and tuna fish from lunch, is still on the mobile table next to me. I just can't go to sleep.
I've attempted suicide once.
I want to do it again.
I look to my right and see the beautiful night time sky, through the window. I see a latch on the bottom of it. I quickly detach all of the cords and wires from my body, and pull off the covers from above me. Little beeps go off but I don't care. I undo the latch and a swift breeze catches my body, underneath my hospital gown. It hurts to stand but, I'm doing it.

I pull up the window, and the city noise overtakes my ears. I climb onto the ledge when I hear a tugging at my door.
"Go away!" I scream through the loud noise. They tug some more. I am standing tall on the edge. I hug the wall so I can turn around. I shuffle my body so that my back is toward the city, and I am facing the door. I outstretch my arms, then suddenly the door jerks open. I am tipping backward. The last thing I see before I close my eyes, is my horrified mother. I hear her scream as I fall backward. It sounds exactly like the screams when dad died.
"NO!!"
I tried to reach up, but it was too lat-.
+++
What if being transgender wasn't such a bad thing. Those guys wouldn't have beaten me up. I wouldn't have gone to the hospital, I wouldn't be as depressed.
I wouldn't have killed myself.
___________________________
Think before you act.
Please.