Warnings: Language, Cynical Comments So on Friday night, I once again attempted and failed. It's been 6 years since my last attempt, I'm 21, and since last time I survived a lethal dose, I went for something a bit more assuring. I ended up being taken to the hospital at 2:30 in the morning, in an ambulance, in blood stained clothes, where I put up with random people's stares and all-too feigned expressions of kindness; nurses whom would say such remarkably observant statements "Oh dear, that's going to scar horribly", or my personal favorite, "Why do you do this to yourself?" in which case I just stare blankly. What do you even say to that? If I had the energy, I would laugh at their stupidity, but alas I was too drained (literally and mentally) to mutter anything coherent as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Despite having hit more than one artery, 'apparently' I didn't need stitches so they wrapped my arms up in gauze and sent me off to "sleep it off". Dealing with the aftermath is always fun; being grilled by some incompetent social worker, who's watched One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest all too much, talking to me like I'm mentally impaired. Though I do have to admit I DID derive immense pleasure in finding logical falsities to annoy her with. I am probably too jaded to care that I am only further perpetuating society's notions of immorality; Though I suppose harassing some dimwit social worker about correct morality while I am sitting in a hospital with a fucked up arm is a little too much. And now I have to deal with several meeting with various people in charge at my college to assess "If I am going to do it again" in which case I muster up all my prowess of intellectual bullshit, and horribly faux (though not to them) revelations to appear as stable as one in my case can realistically appear to be. Is it just me, or is it all too easy to fool people nowadays? The pleasant tasks of hiding/cleaning all evidence of my attempt in my room (ruined some of my favorite clothes /pissed off) So right now I'm just looking at the f'd up life I wish I'd left behind, and wondering why in the name of Hell, I've survived two, truly, lethal attempts when technically I should have died the first time. At least in death I wouldn't have to watch myself slowly withering away, as day after day life slowly eats away at me. The longer I live, the more dead I feel inside. I'm just wondering why I can't get this one thing to go right, instead of screwing everything up once again but I guess like they say; If At First You Don't Succeed, Try Try Again.. With life, unfortunately, still going on for me I guess it's back to social stigmas attached to being Transsexual; The all too wonderful glares and comments, laughter and ridicule. All the lovely little things that drive you down the road of insanity. My family is more or less of the opinion that any sight of me is too much, so they've shipped me off far away which is perfectly fine for me. The further away from them I am the better. But it means no financial support, which can be pretty tricky. I'm pretty antisocial if you couldn't already tell, which makes being self-reliant pretty vital. As with that on top of being Trans, people never want anything to do with me. Not really sure what I expect from posting this here but I suppose letting it out will help. Maybe.. Duno... And if it doesn't, well there are always other options. Maybe I'll do it right.