A letter from Jun 28, 2026

Hey, Happy 22nd birthday. Are things any better? Have you figured anything out? Will I even be alive to get this? I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to turn 22. I’m scared and I have been for years. I wish I could see into the future and see if it’s worth it at all. I was supposed to die at 13, never planned to make it this far. Am I happy? Am I still lying to myself about everything? Is the state of the world any better? Has our family gotten better at understanding anything at all? Are you still sad when you look at them sometimes? Probably. I can’t imagine not being that way. I can’t imagine making them understand. I’ve stopped trying. Nothing feels real anymore, and I hate every day that I wake up to. Not everything is miserable, but it’s hard to keep doing this. I feel like such a disappointment to everyone around me. I wish it was easier to hate them. I wish they were worse so I would have no choice but to walk away. Instead I’m stuck here, dependant on them, loving them too much. I can never be honest with myself in a world like this, can I? I see how my family look at trans people. I can never tell them anything. I can never be real. I don’t exist as a person, just images of what I try to be and what they want of me. I feel like I’m dressing up an avatar every day, like I’m in a video game. Will this ever change? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to be an adult, how I’m supposed to get better, how I’m supposed to feel happy. I hope I figure it out someday. I want you to know that if you’re reading this, you’ve at least got this far. I hope I’m happier. - Bye