I’m sorry. If I don’t write about this, I will do something I might regret. A couple of years ago, I house sat and took care of the cats belonging to a transwoman who was working in London. Late one night, I found the keys to her guns. Now, I’m thinking about doing the same thing here.
I don’t know if my roommate has any guns. But, he might. I am both hoping and fearing that I’ll find one. Hope, because I don’t see my life ending in any satisfactory manner. I don’t pass and I don’t see myself getting enough money any time soon for facial surgery. And I don’t know if I can tolerate another day waking up to this reality.
Fear, because deep down, I want to do things with my life. I want to be happy. I want to be a productive member of society. I want to create and make a difference. Things I can’t do while it takes so much energy to keep going.
I may have to leave the house to keep myself from looking.
It’s going to be a long night.