Friday, June 12, 2009

Suicide the other option

A friend of mine yesterday told me her friend committed suicide. I never met the guy but she said how sweet he was. He did himself in with Cyanide. For those of you who don't know cyanide is a very horrible and painful way to die. How much pain must he have been in? That pain must have been so great and the pain he endured in death was nothing in comparison.

I started thinking about the times i tried to kill myself and how it changed my life.

The first time i was a teenager. fully realized that i was gay. 6'3'' .tall and very overweight. I was going to a brand new school. just opened and i was going to be in the first graduating class. It was horrible. I didn't know anyone, those i did speak to always looked at me as if i don't fit in. Half way thru the year i put my fathers gun in my mouth. i couldn't figure out why that damn thing wouldnt work. tears pouring down my cheeks, frustrated and scared i put it away and went to sleep. I found out a few weeks later that it wasn't an operating gun. it was a real gun converted to not fire. I was so pathetic i couldn't kill myself right.

school continued on at a snails pace and i reached my senior year. having told only my closest friends about being gay i started to feel better. i allowed myself to come out and be a better person. to explore what being a queen is all about. i did theater, not acting really just costumes. sewing made me happy.

I finally graduated and began college in Fullerton Ca. I was a Costuming major. I thought to myself, "even though your still a big gay boy, your in theater with a bunch of other gay boys you will make lots of friends." Sadly that was not the case. One of the only friends i made was a goth girl in my theatrical makeup class. Just imagine a big game boy and a short round goth girl walking to class every day with our makeup cases. we were a odd pair.

It was while walking to class one day alone that i had my first and only anti gay experience. While walking down an alleyway on the way to school i was attacked. The group of guys screamed insults while kicking me in the stomach and face only Scared off by a car alarm going off down the alley. I was alone bleeding and crying. I skipped class and returned home where I stayed for a few days, hiding the bruises that had appeared all over my torso and legs. using what horrible makeup skill i had to cover my face. i spent the next three weeks in utter fear and loneliness. my only friend trying to help. At this same time i worked for the mouse. Mickey Mouse. jackass. I was called a faggot under my breath a few times at work for wearing makeup. Dealing with that was easier than having people ask where the bruises came from. I couldn't take it anymore. Angry at the world and sad at how pathetic i was i took a bottle of aspirin with a bottle of alcohol. ( for every ones reference it doesn't work that easy. just because you see it on TV doesn't mean it will happen that way in real life) i was sick for a week. throwing up all the pills, told my mother it was the flu.

Two times. both unsuccessful. Does that make me a two time loser or Someone who had a guardian angel looking out for me?

We think about suicide because we think there no other options. what we don't think about is the lives we've touched and how our deaths will affect theres. No one dies alone. someone always dies a little inside when someone they love leaves the world that way. Its selfish and i try to stay strong and say as much. i try to say that those people were weak and just plain selfish but inside i understand that feeling. The feeling that there is no one in the world and that loves you.

Trust me, As a 25 year old practicly virgin who's overweight and has serious body issues i can say I'm so glad i was unsuccessful. I have some of the greatest friends that love me for who i am, I have parents that said they always knew and who are so proud of everything i do. including how fabulous i look in drag. If i had done myself in either of those times i would have missed out on all of that.

The road to becoming a queen is a hard one. NO ONE is born a queen. It is thru our experiences and struggles in life that hardens our skin and make us who we are. It is thru our struggles that remind us of how great we are. how lucky we are to call ourselves QUEENS. Im gunna tell you right now that no word like faggot, no foot in my chest, no unapproving gay boys, and especially not those self hating gay men who call themselves republicans can every take away who i am.


With much love,

Girlina QUEEN of the Universe

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