I cut myself for the first time in a while tonight. I signed my vent art with smudges of my blood, I think it’s a nice touch. After that though my sister and my mom had a long conversation with me about how they care about my wellbeing and hate seeing me depressed. I was feeling way better except now I’m in bed crying violently because I just remembered that I’m causing unnecessary trouble for them, they don’t really accept and love me as who I am (a trans guy), and that the best solution is to internalize my feelings and isolate myself as best I can without raising suspicion. Killing myself is inevitable, it’s the only ending for me. It’s nice in the moment of seeing them try but I hate when I trick myself into thinking there’s hope for me.
