I thought it'd be a good idea to reintroduce myself when things change. So here's part 1.

I am Patrick. I'm a trans boy with severe depression. I'm pretty sure I'm gay. I feel like an outsider in my own home. I feel like my friends are just putting up with me at this point. Sometimes I just want to stop talking, but if I did people won't leave me alone. I've lost motivation to do things I truly love like art, music, and writing. I can't even walk right now because of a stupid sprained ankle. People always say to get help when you feel the way I do, but I don't trust anyone enough to fully delve into my problems. I resort to write some of my darker thoughts in this stupid book. But I never go fully into it. Would it be okay if I just fucking stopped talking. Would that fix everything? If I didn't say stupid shit maybe people would like me. No no. That isn't true. No one likes me because I'm intolerable. There are a lot of times when I just wanna put a fucking bullet in my head but I won't do it. I'm too afraid. Why do people still talk to me? I'm ugly. I'm stupid. I'm rude. I'm annoying. I'm a shitty author. I can't draw no matter how hard I try. I'm a girl no matter how much I don't want to be. My heroes don't know who I am and they never will. I'm an insignificant blip in the universe that has no purpose. The grip I once had in life no longer exists.  I stayed still while everyone else moved forward. People say they care about me but they don't seem to fucking notice how depressed I am. My dad will probably make me go to school tomorrow. I have to use a weird scooter thing to get around because my arms aren't strong enough for crutches. Everyone will look at me. They'll stare and think "wow, that fatass couldn't even walk on crutches. She has to have a fucking scooter." I don't want to go to school. I don't want to cause people trouble or be the center of attention. I just want to step into wet concrete, let it dry, then hurl myself into the ocean.