I can’t be around my family — I feel sick. I feel so so sad I don’t know what to do. I can’t, I have a lump in my throat and it hurts.

It’s so painful, I can’t swallow.

This thing that came over me yesterday, isn’t going away. It’s here.

I know there’s more to me than “me” and my tiny emotions, my tiny “me”, but it’s hard when I feel so in the center of it all. Like the main actor in my life.

I know I’m so much more than this. I’m so much more than my personality, my gender, my sexuality, my clothing choice, my interests, my job. I’m so much more than all of those things.

Still, it’s hard.

I always forget that everything is changing, constantly. And that I can’t commit or steady myself on one single thing. That one single thing or point of view is never the answer.

No one has any idea what I’m feeling right now. No one has an exact thought about what I feel in this moment. But I know that everyone’s felt the way I’m feeling now before. At one time or another, people have felt this way. And that is the only thing that comforts me right now.

Also writing. Although, I’m not quite sure because the more I write, the more I cry. Maybe it’s catharsis.

I don’t even know what to say right now — or write, or think. I can’t. I feel like something is happening in my mind and I knew it was coming, it’s a death. A death of an old me and the beginning of a new me. I am resisting, very much right now.

Resist until death, right?

Easy.

Which way is better, to live and be free or to die ‘metaphorically’ and not have lived at all?

Obviously, the first choice. Obviously that is the ultimate goal. But I don’t care. At this moment in time, I want the later. I am choosing the later.

I can’t even think — I literally can’t because thinking will destroy me right now. You know? Those words? Those thoughts? Hate them with a burning passion.

I am dying a slow death. Of the person I used to be.