Why I Cry?

The Truth...

Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash

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Simple. I wish I were not alive. I wish I were not born into a family that wishes I were dead. A family that gives me so little respect, I may as well not even exist. Each day I try, and I try to be their “perfect” child, but I may never be enough. I am the one they call when they need help with anything. I am the one who always helps.

If the garage keeps getting messy due to my parents’ hoarding. I help clean the mess. My dad’s health takes a drastic nosedive. I am the one making a phone call. I am always there, and it has been that way for years, but I am also told I am a failure. The mistake. The one they never wanted to have. My mom wanted kids, and my father already had two. He never wanted my sister or me, but he said my mother “forced him.” Now, I am thirty years old, and nothing has changed, ever. It is the same old bullshit and disrespect time after time, and I always, in the end, just smile. I always sit there and let it happen because I know if I fight back or show my backbone, it gets violent. A good example was on Super Bowl night, 2026. Bad Bunny is performing, and my keeps making racist remarks, and I lose my cool. I tell him repeatedly to shut up and never say that horrible shit again, as he has no right to hate immigrants when he is the child of one and moved here from Germany when he was twelve. He threatened me, all because I asked him to stop being racist.

This always occurs, and in this nasty, violent behavior, my father hides the truth time and time again. No one knows who he really is, and because he is seen as an upstanding man, the lies are seen as the gospel, and all who oppose are deranged liars. I am labeled as insane, and everyone will follow suit because they have no reason to believe otherwise. My mother has no backbone now, and so she bends to his tyrannical rule. The man who shot a small dog simply because he hated poodles, and because his ex-wife bought it, trading his dog away for this poodle. Even if what the x-wife did was wrong, my father did not need to take the poodle out back and shoot it. He does not need to recount the story as though it were a fond memory.

This is a normal occurrence, and this is one reason why I cry often. I was never wanted. I was a failure, and in that failure, I was never enough for them. I will never be enough. My entire family has been poisoned against my fiancé and me simply because I am a transgender individual who is outspoken and does not fear confrontation. I call out poor behavior, and I will not accept injustice. I question their view on life, and so, I am deemed useless.

So, I cry softly and silently at night because I must live with the idea and fact that I am not enough. My existence is unwanted and unworthy of love.

Often, I pray for sweet release as I hate the harsh truth of who I am. I hate every inch of my physical being. I hate remembering that each day I am unwanted, not just by my family, but society as well. The current administration in America has made it clear many times that the transgender community is evil incarnate and is only worthy of death. Now, I will do anything to harm myself? No. I’m lazy and simply wish I could disappear. I am just in a position where I wish I could go away and ignore life forever. Just vanish and no longer be a burden to anyone, as I feel that would bring peace to the world as well.

My family does not want me. The world does not want me either.

Can I be honest? Am I even allowed to be completely honest with you all?

I always feel as though I need to ask permission to speak my mind, as I never believe my presence is wanted. I never feel as though I am allowed to have an opinion, or be honest, or real, or show that I truly am human.

So, I need to ask if I am allowed to share who I am, and let you into my mind.

This brings me to now.

I am a failure, at least that is what so many have told me. All my writing is an “insult to the art” according to my one published friend. According to my parents, I am a failure and shouldn’t exist. I can have a 4.0 GPA in college, and my family will say it is not enough. I can be happy in a relationship and planning a wedding, and it is a disgrace. I just want to be happy, but in this life, in this country, I am not allowed. I work hard toward my college education, and it gets me nowhere. I work hard for my future, and it gets me nowhere.

I spend weeks devoting myself to an art that I would die for, as this is my greatest passion in life, and yet, it is told I am idiotic. I am a waste of space. I am ruining everyone’s life, and it is all because I am transgender. I just want to be happy, and yet, I am banned from events due to my parents fearing being seen with me, as I embarrass them. Having a child who is transgender is clearly a death sentence in their eyes, so they verbally abuse me. Minimizing my every accomplishment and minimizing who I am as a person.

My dreams are not real, and my life is not good enough.

I am never enough. I could sell 1,000 books tomorrow, but it would not be enough. I am worthless, and though I should not believe it, I often do.

I often believe that I am smart, funny, and creative, but then people remind me that it is not true. I am a nobody. I have no friends and no real prospects in my future. Those I admire love to constantly remind me how I am of no use. My family loves to remind me of that as well. I am unwanted and unworthy of love. I am unworthy of recognition, as I am not deserving of praise. I am a burden, a disgrace to my family’s name.

All because I am transgender.

Because of that, I am verbally and physically abused by my family.

So, I sit in silence, tell no one my fears, my dreams, my goals. I tell no one my pain or my truth, because no one cares. Once I came out as transgender, my voice was silenced by all around me, and I had to start living my life forever muted by those who once claimed to be my loved ones and family.

I am not Robert, I never was.

I was never happy, I was never proud of anything I have ever achieved in my life because I was never allowed to be. Soon, I will have my virtual commencement ceremony, and the entire day will somehow become about my parents, and what they have “sacrificed” for me, and my education. The sad reality is, my parents gave me nothing. No support, no praise, no encouragement. I was told it was a waste of time and a debt for nothing. No real goal or reason. But, come May 23^rd, while I wear my graduation cap and gown, and try to be proud of what I have achieved, I will be told I didn’t do enough fast enough. I will be told I could have done better. I could have been smarter or graduated sooner. I should have a job lined up already. My name won’t even be announced yet, and my moment will be ruined by my family, as I can never truly be proud of what I have achieved.

I am and will always be their punching bag. I will and will always be their failure. Their mistake.

So, I hide my life away and cry in silence late at night. No one is awake to see or hear me, and I cannot be called bothersome. That is why I cry in the shower, as I can hide the tears even from myself. I do not want to be seen as weak or annoying, as I need to be robotic, emotionless. I must remind myself that I am not wanted, removing sadness from my body, and substituting it with happiness. That is the only emotion I am allowed to show.

This is why I cry. This is why I vanish often. This is who I am.

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