I’m writing today because I don’t know what else to do with myself. After the psychological and sexual harassment sent me down a spiral of depression and more severe anxiety than I’ve ever felt before, nothing comforts me more than the thought of dying. Today, I asked for the last time, for someone that I once really cared about, precisely because I thought she was so kind and loyal, to do something for me that would have taken her all of ten minutes. I was met with silence; something I have become all too accustomed to over the last year.
I beg and I beg until I have no dignity left. Staring at my helium tank as if its the only option left. The comfort of knowing it is in my control and, also, the hope that the monsters who did this to me might feel shame and pain for even just one day.
Somehow I’m still here. I can imagine myself being happy again; I can see it. There are so many things I want to do that would make me happy. But what is it worth if I have to do it alone? What is it worth when all the faces seem to blur into one; one heinous face of callousness and emptiness. I feel like I am in shock at what’s happening to me, I can’t compute it. Eloi Eloi Lama Sabacthani has become my mantra, the only words that are sill intelligible to me. If the son of God can abandoned, why not me? Why the fuck did I think I was so special? And then comes back again, the future I see, it will still be empty.
The world thinks I’m a monster, and I’m tired of fighting it. I want to die and say, “okay your monster is dead.”
I guess I just wanted to say, that sometimes, some people, REALLY REALLY REALLY need something. And although, it is fully within your rights to deny them what they seek, I think you should know what it does to someone like me.
If I was paralyzed, then you wouldn’t bat an eye at giving me access to an elevator or special parking spot. It’s really just a small thing, and it would be necessary for me to live my best life.
Well especially in the last year, I’ve become paralyzed and I might need some things that may not seem so important to you, you’ll ask me to take the stairs, and I would if I could, but my legs don’t work like yours do.
I feel like a coward for still being here. I’m so tired.
Eloi Eloi Lama Sabacthani. I want to die repeating it over and over again. And just for that moment, I would be beautiful and loved and dignified.