‎I suffered from anxiety for a while.  

‎I suffered from the “what if” syndrome for a while.  

‎And I think it messed up my mind.  

‎It’s shaped who I am, and I see it shaping the man I’m trying to become.  

‎“Who’s the man you are trying to become?”  

‎I don’t really know, but I know for a fact I don’t want to be a man who sees an opportunity and thinks it’s too good to be true because of the things he’s been through.  

‎Or one who runs from responsibilities because he can’t handle it; I might as well be a Trans-in-transit.  

‎Gays have responsibilities too?  

‎Shit, nowhere to hide.

‎

‎I became friends with the flames, so when my friends see smoke, they know it’s a false alarm, but this time the flames burned me to the ground.  

‎They came to the house; my ashes were what they found.  

‎I’m not speaking in literal terms, so relax.  

‎I didn’t actually burn to the ground.  

‎For some reason, my conscience keeps barking at me like a lost hound.  

‎Maybe there’s something I need to confess, maybe not.

‎

‎Here goes my confession: I looked at a rope and for the first time I had suicidal thoughts; maybe I did, maybe not.  

‎Okay, I didn’t.  

‎Okay, I did; for what it’s worth, it was a weak thought, not strong enough.  

‎See, I don’t want you all to look at me differently.  

‎I’m sure many of you think I need help; I don’t.  

‎These are just thoughts I let escape my head.  

‎If I didn’t let it escape, you’d think of me like every normal person out there, I think.  

‎Well, these are His words, not mine.  

‎Do with this whatever you will.

‎

‎Breath in...

‎Breath out.