Tai gazed in the mirror once more. Gently moving his collar to better see his fresh tattoo. It was still slightly disorienting to see. He'd gotten it done mere hours ago. It was probably one of his most important to date though. He looked at himself in the mirror, the tattoo, the short, jaggedly cut red hair, clear brown eyes, lightly tanned skin.
His life..., is not what he ever expected. The point of the tattoo, the real meaning behind it, was so that hopefully it would remind him of his reason to not kill himself. Well, the phrase itself was his reason, "Ji'e'toh", honor and obligation.
He planned to kill himself in the spot the tattoo sat. He hoped though, seeing that, he would be able to refrain. It would strengthen his resolve. It had to. It needed to be done.
Originally, he planned to get it on his wrist, but he knew that simply wasn't good enough. He had to really see the damned thing. See the consequences if he went through with it. It would mark him forever, sure he was young, but it was necessary. He had to do it.
Everything had just gotten worse as the years continued to crawl by.
He was originally outed as a lesbian when he was eleven, not yet knowing anything regarding gender. He was hated and hated himself for it. This sparked the first time his Depression became noticeable. He would cut himself using sharpened, wooden pencils. Typically on the upper right bicep, though he rarely drew blood. More or less, just grazing the skin, though it would burn like hell. He even put rubberbands on his hands to snap when he got angry at something he couldn't change. Which really only served to make him angrier, but he was trying to diffuse it. Eventually, he grew to accept himself for that though. During high school, he came to the slow realization that he had Disassociative Identity Disorder. Four alters, not including himself.
At first, he didn't want to accept it, and tried to ignore them. As with all things though, he came to accept it and educated himself about them and the disorder itself. He told very few people, only those he truly trusted and/or cared about. Some people however, couldn't accept that about him.
Throughout his last years of highschool, he questioned his gender. He hated in himself, everything to do with being feminine. At first, he thought he was simply male-to-female transgender. But..., that didn't feel right. He looked further into it and eventually came to the conclusion that he is Agender, which means he has no gender. Though if he has to be perceived as male or female, he would prefer it be male. And so he prefers people to refer to him as Tai, rather than Tayuya, and he or they, rather than she. Not everyone respected that of course, which he expected. Nevertheless, he accepts it as it is and doesn't really concern himself with it. The only time it truly affects him, is when someone who said they would respect it, does not. Though typically, he'll still hold his tongue, simply not caring enough to challenge them. Arguing being too exhausting.
As he entered his adult years, he discovered the likelihood of his having Borderline Personality Disorder. The symptoms were spread amongst his alters though... He didn't like to think about it. He could see the sense of it, and tried to control the more extreme behaviors and thoughts when he caught them. His anger was still an issue, though over the years, he had gotten considerably better at controlling it.
He couldn't let things go. That was the biggest part of his anger. He held grudges, he couldn't forgive people for wronging him. Even if they apologized, he was still wary of them. Anymore though, ever since he'd been put on that first medication, he didn't get angry as often or as explosively. It did happen though, it could be something impossibly small or something actually worth getting pissed over. He knew he should calm down when it was something small, but oftentimes he didn't want to. He felt good when he was angry. He felt powerful. Which he knew wasn't a good thing. He needed to stop being angry.
He had been suicidal since he was eleven. Nearly twenty-one, and the feelings have only intensified. Before, he had vague ideas of how he would commit the deed. The main thing he wanted out of it, was to do it in that woman's home. In the bathroom, force her to clean up the mess that she had pushed him to. Blood would splatter every where, the mirrors, the floor, the sink. But he would die smiling. Now though, he had a much clearer plan. On a few occasions when he had tried before, he had even written suicide notes. Mostly, they detailed what he wanted done with his personal belongings, and the fact that it was no one's fault, his actions were his own. The time he actually did the deed, whenever that may be, he was unsure if he would bother with a note. Maybe, to give people closure. He had made four attempts in the past. He never went to the hospital. All but one time, he used pills. The other time, he was going to use a large knife.
Recently, having told his therapist of his plan, she made him go to the mental hospital. It did nothing but anger him, but it also prompted the change in his placement of the tattoo he just got. The social worker there, was utterly useless, she kept trying to insinuate everything that was wrong was because he was gay and trans. Which was absolutely not the case, he had made his peace with those things years before. She got frustrated with him for rolling his eyes, but she had no clue what she was talking about.
His new job started in just under two weeks. He had worked there previously, it was a terrible place, and supposedly, it had gotten even worse. Though, the pay had gotten better. He tried not to think about it. Before..., working there had literally almost killed him. Everything got increasingly worse, depression, anger, anxiety. He hated his life, himself, his job, just everything. The girl he was dating at the time, left him, even though she was literally what got him through the days. He planned to go see her before he went to college after the job ended. But..., she left him, and that's when everything got worse than it was. He had decided that he was done with women, and would just concentrate on his college plans.
That however..., was not how it happened. He changed jobs to another seasonal, and met another woman. She was literally his idea of physical perfection. He was interested, and it finally came to light that she liked him back. She was incredibly dim though, but she was slightly older, physically perfect, so he went for it. And they lasted longer than they ought to have. He even forwent his college plans to stay with her and help her better her life.
Because of her, he started therapy and that first medication. He hated both things, but did them to please her. That was all he cared about, at first. Everything he did, he did for her, never because he wanted to. He did draw lines though, he refused to give up drinking Monster. When the medication stopped all of his feelings, he stopped taking it, and despite getting yelled at for that, he felt intensely better once the medication was out of his system. Things disintegrated between them slowly, mostly because he was using her until he got a better job and another roommate. Eventually though, he got fed up with her and encouraged her to find someone else. She hadn't wanted to at first, but she did and was clearly happier without him. He was definitely more himself without her.
He tried dating a transman after that, but things quickly fell apart. That added to his depression for a while, but that eventually faded.
After that he was single for over a year.
He met another non-binary trans person and wound up dating them for six or seven months. Again, he wanted to help them. It failed, as always. Again, he had a beautiful aesthetic, and was different. But things happened and they fell apart. After he left, his roommate and others commented he seemed more like himself. He honestly didn't feel much over their break-up, he had been expecting it.
His depression and suicidal ideation had gotten worse as time went on. He was on new medication, all he noticed so far, was that it made him tired. He was still going to therapy as well. He wasn't sure if progress was being made, it didn't seem that way. But..., things would get worse before they got better. That's what was always said. Maybe it was the truth.
His fingers grazed the skin just beneath the new tattoo. Some things just had to be...