Discovery

Jay Hunter

WARNING: SELF-HARM/SUICIDAL REFERENCES/ PROFANITY/ ABUSE MENTIONS

Hi! I'm Jay. Or at least... I think I'm Jay. Jay is the person I want to be, the person I wish to be more than anything in the world. Right now, however, I'm Abbie. So, I guess I should start with:

Hi. I'm Abbie. I'm 14 years old and I live in Northamptonshire, England. I have SAD anxiety, GAD anxiety and depression. Basically, I'm your average trans teen. Oh, I forgot to tell you about that. I'm trans. I am ftm, meaning I was born with the wrong body parts. The only part of me I like is my voice. I have a husky, sort of neutral voice which is quietly commanding. I love my voice, it's the only thing stopping me from- hold on, it's 132 words and I'm already telling you I'm planning on topping myself. Good Lord, I need to reign it in. Oh, who gives a fuck. I am going to kill myself on friday. I don't care for your sympathy or disgust, so stop your simpering. I've heard it all before: 

'But what about your poor family and friends?'

 Well, nosy-ass reader, my family don't give a shit about me. They all don't care for my wellfare and they abused me for 7 years of my life. In fact, I hope it hurts them. 

'But life will get better.'

 When. When is my life going to magically turn around. I have been mentally abused my whole fucking life. Do you think it's suddenly going to become a dream. Yeah, well, I wish.

Anyway, moving on. My family are the worst. As I said, for 7 years they mentally abused me, pushing me about, making me feel like a failure, a disappointment, that feelings are stupid and crying is never okay. That's not even the worst. God. My whole fucking life sounds like a soap opera, in which the writer abandoned it after a few chapters. Well, to further your 'sympathy' let's do a little remembering:

It was boiling. The sun was beating down on my neck and shoulders, but, focused as I was, I didn't care. My head was bent over my chest, like my neck was straining to see what I was doing. In fact, I think my neck was better where it was. It turned even my stomach, the one doing it, to see the blood oozing from the cut in my arm. I liked pain. Pain kept me running. Kept me alive, as much as I wish it didn't. Pain was the only thing I could feel now. My family had ruined that for me. Just as I was about to make another precise cut, my hand ticked, jerking the blade, digging it deeper into my flesh. It took a lot of effort to  stop it from bursting an artery. Lord, imagine the fuss if I bled out. Ha. Ha ha ha. 'Oh my god, I've finally gone insane.' I thought sadly. That was the first time I thought about how amazing it would be to die. It would not be the last by any means.

ME (AUTHOR):

I'm sorry for this, 2 followers of mine!

(Love you, Ash!!)