“Because so long as this world isn’t made for us, I have to keep fighting for a better world.”
Content Note: Mentions of suicide, trans/homophobia, saneism
Nearly every day for the past five months, give or take, I’ve had a moment when I glance out the window onto my street and think to myself, “I was never supposed to be here.”
This feeling isn’t new to me – I’ve dealt with “survivor’s guilt” in some form for years now – but the feeling intensified when I moved to my new apartment.
You know, the apartment that I feel like I don’t deserve for some reason or another.
Here’s the honest truth: People like me? Mentally ill queer kids, the ones that get their homophobia or transphobia with a side of psychosis? The ones whose trauma isn’t just a meal but comes with an appetizer and a fucking dessert?
This world isn’t made for us.
How would I know that? I’ve lived it.
And I don’t think I would…
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