Time bomb

I once read that once you attempt suicide, it never stops being an option.

(My depression is better than ever. My parents support me. I’m on T. I aid my local trans community.)

There’s always this nagging thought that I’ll still end up killing myself if things get too sour.

(I’ve quit college for good. I’ll never afford surgery. I’ll never be totally independent. My two jobs want to fire me because I’m an HR time bomb. My trans community is dragging me down.)

And the scary thing isn’t dying. It’s disappointing everyone who’s invested their love, time, and money in me.