So tired of this life

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I just want to vent and whine and cry a little if that's okay with others. I've seen others do it, so I figured maybe it will be therapeutic and I will feel better afterwards. If not, I can try to kill myself with Rocky Road Ice Cream and see if I can fall into an ice cream induced coma (one step past brain freeze).

I am an interest mix of paradoxes. I don't think people realize that and sometimes it is difficult to form a kind of cohesion to make everything fit. Sometimes it leads to doubt, sometimes it leads to self-hatred, and a few times it has led to self harm.

For one, I am transgender and a right-winged conservative Christian. It's an interesting place to be. For a long time I thought one was opposed to the other and life was going to be an endless war until I died and got sent to hell. I no longer see them as enemies. I see the two as companions that can co-exist in a wonderful and peaceful way. But I find that I am hated on both sides because of two of the major things that define who I am. Because I am a right-winged Christian - people have told me that makes me the worst kind of transgender. Because I am Transgender - people have told me that makes me the worst kind of Christian.

Though I put on a tough exterior, I don't want to be hated by anyone. But it seems lately that I am hated by almost everyone, even when I think I'm doing what I feel is right. I get hate mail, I get hate messages, and I'm pretty well aware of the things that are said behind my back.

Maybe I am a bad person. It's the general consensus. Maybe I really am a complete fuck and someone should hunt me like a dog and put two slugs in my skull. I don't mean to be. I want to be helpful and friendly and honest and warm, but I guess that doesn't come across and I guess what I feel the most is alone. A lot of my problem is morphology. I got a major problem. I don't know if it's because I was isolated a lot as a child (My mom would lock me in the house and go to the bar when I was an infant) or that I've always had kind of a hearing/speech problem (Took me years to understand that they were called pot pies and not Popeys (like the sailor)), but i've always have had trouble conveying my message to others. It's odd that I'm a writer, but I guess that's another paradox.

I understand that I've made mistakes. It just seems that any time I do they seem to be the worse kind imaginable and people refuse to forgive me. I think that's my life. I am an evil person, people must realize it, and I suffer because of it. I'm tired of suffering.

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