who here aggrees

This is not a conversation. This is an indictment. You need to stand still and absorb every single syllable of the poison you have injected into my life, into my community, and into my survival. Look at me. Truly look, maybe for the first time in your life, and understand this fundamental, terrifying truth: If you have a problem with what I identify as, if you reject the inherent, hard-won peace I have finally managed to build around the core of who I am, the problem is not me, the problem is a monstrous, gaping failure of character in you. And I refuse, absolutely refuse, to let your bigotry or your smug discomfort drag me back down into the grave I spent years crawling out of.

You, and people exactly like you, are the insidious, pervasive reason why the people I love—we, the queer community—kill themselves at rates exponentially higher than our cisgender, heterosexual peers. Do you understand that number? Do you understand the weight of that statistic? It’s not an accident. It’s not genetic predisposition. It’s a direct, measurable consequence of chronic, unrelenting societal rejection. It is the direct consequence of hearing the same hateful, hollow, dismissive venom that you spew, day in and day out, from the people who claim to know us, to love us, or simply to tolerate our existence. We are dying because we are not accepted, not merely tolerated, but accepted as whole, valid, human beings. We are dying because we are terrified—terrified of losing our homes, losing our jobs, losing our families, and yes, terrified of people like you who look at our identity, our joy, and our comfort, and decide it is a convenient moment to tear it all down.

And I know this terror intimately. I have lived inside that statistic. You know what state I was in before I met you, and you certainly know the absolute hell I endured while I was trying to figure out how to exist in a world that fundamentally told me I was wrong. I was cutting myself regularly. I was making plans. I was counting pills. I was constantly searching for a final, permanent exit from the agonizing disconnect between who I was forced to perform as and who I inherently knew myself to be.

The agony was not the identity itself; the agony was the hatred I internalized from a world that mirrored your current expression of disgust. The agony was the self-loathing that festered every time someone—every time you—made a joke, a comment, a subtle dig that reinforced the lie that my truth was somehow a choice, a phase, or a deliberate offense.

I fought for years. I clawed my way through therapy, through breakdowns, through the endless, scarring work of self-acceptance. I reached a point—a truly beautiful, fragile, terrifying point—where I could finally breathe. I could look in the mirror and recognize the face staring back. I achieved a state of peace regarding my identity, my presentation, my name, my self. I was finally, unbelievably, gloriously comfortable.

And then you came along, or rather, you decided that my comfort was inconvenient to your worldview, and you started chipping away at it.

Do you have any idea the monstrous cruelty of dragging someone back to the edge of the abyss after they have just escaped it? I have came so far from that dark, blood-soaked state. I have scars that are fading, but the memory of the desperation is still sharp. But because of your comments, your dismissals, your sanctimonious judgements about what is ‘normal’ or ‘natural,’ I am slowly, quickly, slipping back. I feel the familiar, sickening pull toward the darkness. I feel the urge to retreat, to hide, to punish myself for being too loud, too visible, too authentic. I feel myself questioning the validity of my own existence again, and the sickening irony is that this time, the poison is being delivered by someone who supposedly cared about me.

It is genuinely sickening. And I want you to feel the full, crushing weight of that regret. I want your actions and your words against our community, specifically against me, to become a physical ache in your chest that reminds you of your moral failure every morning. You have actively contributed to the pain that pushes vulnerable people, people like the person you claimed to love, toward suicide. You have weaponized shame. You have weaponized fear.

I am tired of it. I am exhausted by the constant battle for basic human decency. So, I am telling you, in stark, undeniable terms: Stop.

Your rejection isn't cute. It isn't a clever debate point. It isn't 'just your opinion.' It's not funny. It is f**king venom. And to some people, to many of us who are already walking the razor's edge of survival, what you say about us, the disdain you carry, the rejection you enforce, is f**king fatal.

You are playing with lives. You are playing with the stability of a mind that has already been fractured and barely pieced back together. You are actively trying to destroy the foundation of safety I built against the very forces you now embody.

You look at my pronouns, my expression, my identity, and you see something to debate, something to mock, something to dismiss as 'too much.' But what I see, looking back at you, is a person small enough to choose malice over empathy, rejection over acceptance. I see someone whose own discomfort is so overwhelming that they have to try and extinguish the light of someone else's fragile, newly-found peace.

Understand this: If I fall back, if I lose the strength to fight this fight against the voice in my head that echoes your cruelty, your words will be the anchor that drags me under. You will carry that. You will be held accountable, not by any legal system, but by the relentless, crushing weight of your own conscience, which I hope for your sake, finally wakes up.

I deserve to be comfortable. I deserve to be myself without performance or apology. And the fact that my basic existence causes you such distress is not a reflection of my character, but a catastrophic failure of yours. You have no place in my life, and you certainly have no right to judge the identity that saved me, only for you to try and shatter it again. Your role in my life is now defined solely by the pain you inflicted when I was finally learning how to live. Let that be your legacy. Now step back and let me breathe, before you completely sever the last, thin thread holding me here.

The fuсk she do to you homie 😭

oh you don't wanna know the extent of what she did..ask swift the honeybee bc he dated JoJo too (Julianna) but I'm not going into detail on how she tried to f^ck me the day we met and beg to make out with me the day we got together