u/anderwolf07

​I will kill myself tonight.

​I can’t handle this farce anymore. I give up. I’ve decided that today is the last day I carry this stupid body, this 1.64-meter prison that condemned me before I even knew what desire or respect were.

​I’ve tried everything. God knows I broke my soul. I burned my eyes out studying until dawn, believing the lie that knowledge would make me "great." I broke my back in the gym every damn day, lifting weights that my bones hated, trying to broaden shoulders that are always too close to the ground. I lined myself with degrees, with good manners, with an arsenal of jokes and a kindness that already tastes like blood in my mouth. I’ve maintained a constant smile, a superhuman energy just so people wouldn't ignore me, to exist at least as a "nice guy" on others' radar.

​For what? To watch how this tall guy—the one who just spends his time watching series, the one who only went to the gym to sweat out a hangover—took away in one week the woman for whom I would have given my life. Her... the one who looks at me with that kindness that hurts more than a blow, the one who sees me as a "great friend," but who surrenders herself to him with a fire that I will never, not in a million years of effort, be able to ignite. I saw her eyes when she looked at him. It wasn't respect for his achievements; it was hunger. A biological hunger to see how he had to lower his chin to look at her.

​I’m leaving because I’m tired of "negotiating" my existence. I’m fed up with having to be the funniest, the most helpful, the smartest, just to be allowed to be in the same room as men who only need to stand up to be respected.

​Mom, I’m sorry. I know you cry in silence. I know you call me "your pride" because I’m the one who studies and progresses, but I also know that when you see your friends' sons—those giants who walk with authority—you feel a pang of something you don’t dare to name: disappointment. I’m sorry for not having been a "real man," for not being the son you could brag about without having to mention my grades or my job. I’m sorry for being born with these short bones. I know that deep down, even if you love me out of duty, you don’t admire me. Nobody admires a man who has to try so hard not to be invisible.

​I don’t want to keep being a gear in the machine. I don’t want to keep buying affection with "merit sheets" while others pay with genetic gold. If there is a God, I hope He asks for my forgiveness for sending me to war with a wooden knife.

​I’m going where gravity no longer matters, where my femurs don’t dictate my value, and where, finally, I can stop smiling. There is no more "human effort" left in me. The butchery ends tonight.

​Goodbye, everyone.