The only thing I ever wanted in life was to live in a stable household. I've never had that. Since childhood I've constantly been so afraid. Being so overwhelmed that I was the only way I could cope was to give up on life. I barely graduated high school and had absolutely no direction. I was a good kid, I was a good young adult, and I am a good person. I don't go clubbing or to bars. I don't take drugs or go to parties. I always strive to be tactful and polite to everyone. There's so much that I try to do and it's never good enough. At eight years old my toys would be broken after being thrown out into boxes. My stuff would be packed and I would be screamed at and told that I'm moving out. I was just a child. My crime was standing up for myself and telling my bipolar mom that how she was treating me was hurtful. I've constantly been threatened with homelessness for the majority of my life and I do not believe that I deserve this.

My mother is someone who believes that there's always somebody worse off than yourself. Which is true. There is always someone worse off. She believes that my medical conditions are no big deal. Which isn't true and is hurtful to me. She believes that being transgendered is no big deal. Which is also untrue. Being transgender makes job searching difficult. There's just no way around it. Because of her beliefs, my older transgender sister has been forced into whoring herself. My sister who used to be a very polite, and intelligent young women, is now a lot lizard. My own condition might prevent me from working behind a desk for more than an hour at a time. It might prevent me from working as a cashier. But I'm trying. I've applied to every single job out there including janitorial positions that involve working in a some chemical factory, as well as hospitals were I'd clean up people's piss and blood. When my car was being used by somebody else, I literally walked for four hours to a nearby temp agency. So don't any of you dare judge me and say that I'm not trying. I'm already told that enough.

I live each day expecting to die tomorrow. I anticipate dying every day. Then each day I wake up and tell myself, "No. Just one more day. I'll keep living for just one more day." That's the only way that I can mentally cope with my living situation. I have never lived within a household. I've only been a guest and I'm constantly reminded of this way before I was old enough to work. I'm not the bread bringer. I'm a useless parasite.

When I express how I'm feeling they tell me that. When I tell them that I feel suicidal they tell me to just shallow it. Pull up my big boy panties and get a job. People much worse off than me found work but I -still- haven't been employed. Now that I'm grown up I can look back and see why I'm so messed up and so socially anxious and suicidal. There's no escaping who I am. Clearly I deserve this or else I wouldn't have been treated the way that I am, and failed the way that I have. There is no hope. Even if I somehow land two jobs, I could not afford an apartment. Tonight I'm probably going to be homeless in time for thanksgiving. This time probably isn't an empty threat. If that happens I will kill myself and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me. I only hope that this miserable, horrible person dies a lonely cold death isolated from everyone for how she treated her two children, her multiple husbands, and her own father and mother.