Suicide, and why it's a bad idea.

There isn't any real message to this post apart from the fact that it's about you. Yeah, you, the kid staring at this screen, maybe in a bad place, maybe alright at the moment. Either way, this is for you, if you ever need it.

Everybody matters. Every single person is important. A lot of people really close to me have been in bad places where it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Hell, I've almost ended up there sometimes, but they've all got through. And you can as well.

As a close friend of mine told me, and I'm sure he won't mind my quoting him, and repeatedly using his ideas here. 'You are made up of particles that once were, and one day again will be, stars. Some part of our universe combined in an incredibly precise manner at incredible odds, to create you, and to shape you into who you are.'

And it'd be a shame to throw that away.

There are a lot of things that are wrong with the world, and I'm sorry that some of it happens to you. I won't pretend it's going to get better, because it might not. The world doesn't turn on fairness, after all.

It comes down to if you can stand to continue, and if you can't.

Whatever's happened to make you feel how you do now, I can't take it away, make it better. But there's going to be something around that you wouldn't have had if you gave up. Be it a glass of orange juice that tastes perfect, or a sunrise on a shitty morning. It's not much, but it's something.

And everything that led up to this moment in your life, if you're reading this in that bad place or somewhere else entirely, it made you the fantastic person you are today. And if you think you're not that fantastic, I do. I really do. Because as The Doctor says, he's never met someone in all his 900+ years of travelling that isn't important. We all have our part in life, and you're doing yours awesomely.

So find something to distract yourself from whatever you want to do to yourself, if you can. Listen to a new band, read, draw and try to decide what the shapes mean, dance. Dress up, go make yourself a cup of tea. If you'd rather just curl up, cry it out, that's good too. It's a good stress-reliever.

I don't know if this helps anyone, but just know that I care, if you found this by accident, or if you have it saved away for when you need it, and you're more than welcome to send me a message if you're in a bad place. I'm easy to talk to, honestly, and we can trade life stories until you realise I'm really lame and can't stop laughing at my stupid jokes, and forget about your incredibly valid reasons for not wanting to play ball with the world any more.

Focus on the fact that despite everything, you're alive. You're here, reading this. And all those things you're feeling are legitimate. They aren't stupid, or ridiculous. If they matter to you, then they're very real, and you don't deserve to be judged because some people don't have the same problems as you. People that tease you, they're bastards, ignore them.


Most people are so preoccupied with living that they never stop to consider what it is to be alive. So pay attention to being alive, because I'm so fucking glad you are.

In the making.

It isn't very often that I focus on the negatives, in myself or in others, but right now that's what I'm going to do. Ask anyone, I'm known for being incredibly reluctant to point out bad traits in anything or anyone, no matter how bad they may be. Moony usually says I'm full of shit when I try to defend somebody when that person clearly doesn't deserve defending, and she's probably right.

But it has to be said, I'm a hypocritical coward. Nobody is perfect, after all.

I spend so much time believing that people should be themselves. No apologies, no regrets. Hell, my entire philosophy is that you know what's best for you, so you have to do it. You do you.

But when it comes to me, I can't do it. I can ask my school to change my name, I can speak to my friends and stand in front of a class to talk about being trans* and ask for awareness, but when it comes to my own family, the people I've known all my life, I can't do anything about what they say.

Moony called it abuse once, verbal and psychological abuse. To be honest, I'd never considered it could count as that, but then I realised that's what a lot of kids/people who get abused probably think. My therapist agreed with her. I'm not really used to any other family life, so it's the norm for me. When I see Moony's family I'm struck by how everyone hangs out with each other, and how her brother comes and visits even when he doesn't live there, or they hang out in the kitchen. I've never had that, and that's a shame, but it's made me determined that my own kids won't ever have to feel like that.

My friends are all aware of the 'this week on how my family sucks' imaginary show that I update every Monday with events over the weekend, but I only ever just stand and take whatever they have to say. I stay silent, I nod, I piss them off because my only reactions are nodding and 'yes, I know' in varying degrees of frustration as I wait to be excused.

However, I finally made a step a few months back. I got my name-change papers. I paid £54 for everything I needed, and got my friend in Norfolk to sign as a witness because you have to be over 18, and Zed's mum turned down my request because she supports me but doesn't want to go against my parents. Admirable.

I am legally Lorcan Peter [first name removed]. The papers actually say I have to refuse everything to do with my old name. So I'm breaking the law by answering to it when my parents call it out. Dredd would probably throw me in iso cubes overnight or something.

And my parents don't know. My bank doesn't know. I haven't told anyone that actually needs to know except my school, and watching my name change on the register made me cry.

Me and Moony are going to tell them in a few weeks, when she visits. I'm terrified, really, of what they'll say when she's gone. But I've done it, I can't go back. I'm not changing my mind, no matter how much they go on about how I'm just a kid and I don't know what I want.

The human mind is developing until the age of 25-26 or something, and that is the time it will mature, if ever. So yes, my thoughts and ideas will change as I grow up, but this has been a part of me all my life. And I've known my identity since I was 14, and all that's happened is I've become more sure of it.

More sure that every time I hear 'she' directed at me I tense up, and that if I were happy with my given gender, that wouldn't be the case.

Maybe one day they'll see that.

But back to the topic at the start, about how cowardly I am sometimes: I've been writing this post since July. And it's only now that I've felt brave enough to post it. I only just decided to hell with it, because it feels like saying it here, on the line, it makes it a little more official. And while I'm terrified about how my family will take it, I get giddy whenever I look at the papers. I did the right thing. It was worth almost completing the form 20 times before I finally just did it, worth the stressed tears and freak-outs Moony probably remembers.

Because this proves I'm serious. I'm doing this. My old name was nice, but it wasn't me. This is.

except my life, except my life, except my life.

There's a scene in Hamlet, Act II scene somethingearlyon, when Hamlet is pretending to be insane so that... actually, I don't even know why. He thinks it's necessary to help him exact revenge, probably. But it's a bit of a stupid move. Still, little Hamlet can do whatever he thinks helps, bless.

In the scene, he's pretending to read, mocking Polonius, the advisor for the king and father of Hamlet's sort-of love interest. Hamlet really doesn't like him, and makes that subtly clear through word play. I won't bore you with the entire scene, but David Tennant did a fantastic version of it in a BBC drama that's on youtube, and it's hilarious. But I am going to give you the last few lines, to help what I'm trying to say.


POLONIUS: (after some stuff that isn't important) My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
HAMLET: You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal - except my life, except my life, except my life.


My teacher pointed out something that instantly struck true to me, and is the main reason I'm going on about Shakespeare right now. While Hamlet is pretending to be insane, and this is a little weird, old Will wouldn't have written it without a reason.

Either he's saying, after he's slyly told Polonius to fuck right off out of his sight, that Polonius took his life away by keeping him from talking to Ophelia, or.

Or. [Dramatic pause that isn't so dramatic.]

If you read the repeated line out loud three times, it starts to sound less like 'except' and more like 'accept'. As if, through the guise of his loose thoughts, he is asking Polonius to accept his life, his choices.

Because Hamlet's a troubled kid, his dad's dead, his mum's sleeping with his uncle, everything's upside down. He really isn't the fighter his dad used to be, and he's conflicted. I get that.

Nobody cares about what Hamlet thinks about what's happening, they all either tell him to suck it up and get over his dad's death, or don't realise there's anything wrong at all. I recognise that, in a way.

I guess, though it doesn't sound as impressive once I've typed it out, that I just really sympathise with Hamlet, and I admire him.

So, tragic little probably 30 years old isn't so little Hamlet, I accept your life, and I get your wishes that the father figures in your life would, too.

He is the law.

I think, at this stage in my interests, it’s about time to discuss Judge Dredd. Sorry in advance, but this is a comic series I have a lot of love for right now. That, and I'm several days behind on blog posts. So you'd better watch out, I'm going to throw a lot of my own thoughts and ideas around now.

Once of the best things about Dredd is the realism of it. It’s set in Mega City One, after most of the world has been destroyed for some reason that might be about chemicals or something. Outside the mega cities is the Cursed Earth where nobody lives or goes. Mega City One stretches from what used to be Washington to Boston, and there are a lot of people living there. Like, 75,000 citizens. Entire megablocks that can house cities in themselves, full of everything so you don't even need to leave the block if you don’t want to.

It presents a future where everything has gone to shit, and sure, it isn't a great one, but it’s also creepily accurate with the way our world is coming along. And that’s what’s awesome. It doesn't show off a fancy future where everything is lovely, like in Star Trek. I still love Trek, don’t get me wrong. But Mega Cities seem more like where life is heading. Not that we can't extend outwards into the stars, too. Hell we'd need to.

And Joe Dredd – whose name I will never get used to, it’s the lamest thing – is just a normal guy. He’s human, he’s got his own problems. If you cut him, he’ll bleed. And his life is dedicated to cutting down the lawbreakers in the city. It’s not a glamorous job, or a nice one, but somebody has to do it, and he’s the best of the best.

He pretty much has a weird friendship with a woman named Judge Anderson, too, which is sweet. But he’s totally human, he gets angry at things, he understands the law better than himself, and he frowns really really hard at literally everything. And he's sarcastic/sassy as hell.

But an awesome thing about the comic is that he ages properly.  Every year that passes in this world, passes in his own. So he’s actually getting on a bit. There are jokes at the moment that maybe he should let someone else take over, and I think he got diagnosed with some cancer or brain issue fairly recently, but it can be resolved with surgery, so he'll be alright. He has been going a long time.

And the gender equality is wonderful. Judge Anderson is a psychic, and when she's interrogating a criminal in a cell and he starts fighting back, two Judges outside consider helping, but one says she's capable and to not bother, and that's fantastic. Sure, she's also drawn in the half-light with only what barely counts as underwear on in Judgement On Gotham, but it's drawn classy as fuck, and you don't actually see anything, even if it's unnecessary, and Dredd gets a full body shot where his leathers are very tight between his legs, so it feels evened out a little.

The Dredd stories are rarely happy, and I'll be the first to admit they often end badly. But that's another good point in my eyes. The hero is a normal guy wrapped up in armour behind a visor, but he still goes out every day and fights. In one of the christmas annuals, this guy sets off a bomb in a megablock, and they stop the other two, but not that one. And it sucks, it really does, but it mirrors how things really are. They can't get to everyone, he isn't always going to win. And that's usually read by kids around Christmas. The stories never pretend everyone can be saved.

I have a gold - slightly smaller than regulation - Dredd badge on my coat, and I've never worn a badge so damn proudly, because I feel like I can get a lot of strength from him. There are 12 serious crimes reported every minute in that city. That's 17,000 per day, and the Judges only get to around 6%, but that doesn't stop him going every day, fighting crime and being the best of the best. His belief in right and wrong amazes me, and I'm endlessly admiring of him.

As I stupidly told my parents yesterday, and received a short 'don't become obsessed' speech from them for my efforts, Dredd is my hobby at the moment. Dredd's my life, because I've mentioned before about doing what works for you. You do you. And right now, Dredd works, keeps me going. I have a massive amount of comics to go through now, and while it stems from the Karl Urban starring movie from last year, I love the comics in a way I haven't loved comics for a while. I said I wanted to get back into that genre, and here it is.

Double standards and public assumptions.

When I have kids, I'm going to teach them about double standards, and assumptions when they might be hurtful.

For example, I'll never tell the kid that they aren't allowed to wear the deodorant of whatever gender they aren't identifying as because they are not that gender and never will be, only to wear it myself at a later date and complain about it as if the conversation never happened.

I won't tell them to wash all their stuff up themselves and then leave my own in the sink for someone else. Or ask them not to eat things I've paid for myself and then eat their food.

Because what kind of a lifestyle is that promoting to the kid who's young and impressionable, or worse still, the kid who's in their late teens or early twenties, who can see what a load of crap it is to make demands and move against them as if you're above them?

That makes the kid feel like they're something less than equal in the family, and that's one way to make that kid feel something less than equal in the world.

Likewise, I'll teach that kid (or those kids, let's keep options open) to never just assume somebody's gender, because that's a sure-fire way of making that person feel like shit.

To pick an example seemingly at random; a quick survey, when every question is asked, including age, family size, shopping experience. I'll teach that kid that if they're ever doing those, or know someone who is, they should voice every question, not make an assumption on what gender somebody is by what they think is probably right. If that person is dressed in a masculine way, very clearly has a flat chest and low voice, surely they should be 'male'. Better yet, why not ask? Because that way that person is more inclined to answer honestly rather than make up any answers to the following questions in an attempt to get out of there, and that sample is thereby ruined. Because it was ruined the minute they put the wrong gender in the box. This may or may not be the entire core of the post.

An example like that is a very quick method to ruining a trans* person's day. Someone who's happy in the gender they were born as would probably shrug such an assumption off, grump or laugh about it but ultimately forget it. A trans* person may end up going home and spending a large space of time staring a themselves, wondering what more they can do to be read how they want, and ultimately end up doing everything to avoid doing anything like those surveys again for that one question, where there are only two boxes and very rarely an 'other' option.

Egotistic or Interesting?

It's somewhat interesting how blog posts can be sparked into my imagination by nearly anything. This time around, totally unplanned, is a conversation I just had with my parents. It was about blogs, and why people write them. I ended up slightly offended and, naturally, decided to blog about it, in a totally non-ironic way.

The conversation revolved around Wil Wheaton, best known for his role in Stand By Me and as ("Shut Up") Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and internet sensation as described by Sheldon Cooper. I received one of his books today, called Just A Geek. I read it a few months ago after going to Reading for a University Open Day in which I never actually entered the Uni building and spent the whole time with a friend I was visiting in her dorm room and in the town. There, I found Wil's book in Waterstones, and stole borrowed the online reading code from the back, so it already has some sentimental value before I've actually read through it, and is why I can defend it.

His book is about his blog, more or less. He describes what his thought process was to begin with back in July 2001, how it changed over the years, how his own life changed and he became more confident in himself. I don't know about anyone else, but I think that's wonderful. It's almost painfully personal sometimes in the best of ways, and realistic as all hell in describing how difficult it can actually be to get work as an actor, how tough things can get.

Here's where things got difficult.

My dad commented on how self-obsessed someone has to be to write a blog in the first place, to actually think anyone gives a shit about what they have to say. I disrespectfully disagree. I write a blog because I want to get my thoughts into words, because it's a kind of therapy for me to feel like it's there, I've said it, even if nobody hears. Like talking to your pet or posters because at least you're talking. I'm not self-obsessed, and if anyone does read this, more than the few people I personally know, I hope you get that, and that I'm not doing this entirely to be 'heard'. If I help someone, I'm pleased, even emotionally compromised about it, because I wish I'd had someone around to rely on in my bad times like this, to make like a masterpost for dysphoria. If not, that's cool too. My viewings baffle and humble me every time I look at them.

Some people might write blogs for the attention, and maybe that's how Wil started, to prove that quitting Star Trek wasn't a mistake, but it's also a way for him to show he's still around, and people genuinely love hearing about what's going on in his life. That's not self-obsession, that's proving himself, and it's fact.

And surely it isn't 'the new height of self-obsession' to write about how your blog adapted over the years if people honestly want to know about it. He has a massive following, and all of them really care about him by choice. He isn't imagining people read his blog, the comments and fanbase prove they are.

What's even worse is to assume people write these as a bid for attention, the likes of which they could only have gained by doing outrageously bad things like a killing spree to get noticed. That's just not on.

So maybe it's just me getting easily riled by my parents, always wanting to argue against what they're saying and protect my idols, but I really don't think everyone writes a blog because they're incredibly egotistical and self-obsessed. Or maybe that's just me.

What is this? What is this?

Story time, with Lorcan.

At group, a few months ago, the session started with Richard gesturing at a sheet of paper, several paints, highlighters, pens, and so on. He said we were welcome to draw whatever we wanted, if we wanted, and either use individual sheets or the main page, and then we'd analyse it. Apparently it's a good outlet if you don't know what you're feeling. Maybe it's a load of crap, but it's fun as hell, and making up what it could mean is interesting.

My first piece was the name 'Lorc -A- Dork' in gold, in the middle of the page. It was a joke from a livechat with Ivan, Taggles (a friend of ours) and some others he knew. I also drew a star, the starfleet symbol, a rainbow, and what was supposed to be the symbol from Teen Wolf, but ended up more like the female reproductive system, much to my friend's amusement. Like so:

As you can see, my art skills are not what they apparently were two years ago. That's not my original representation, but it's pretty much the same. I tried to draw it and failed entirely.

We discussed how my name was clearly big on my mind, the star is legit a connection to my given middle name, the rainbow is my gay, and that? I just wanted to draw Derek Hale's tattoo, but maybe I have more on my mind than Tyler Hoechlin's back.

I also drew the TARDIS with 'gay' coming out of it in gold, glittering letters from the light.

Later on, I drew this.

Apologies for image size; my phone sucks.

The orange guy was added one somebody asked if that was the hill Jack stands on in Nightmare Before Christmas.

And I realised it was. I'd unintentionally drawn that scene, when he's wondering if Hallowe'en is what he really wants and so on. It's been a while since I saw it, so my knowledge is sketchy.

I started with glittery-green, because I love glitter and find it wonderful. Then a dark blue, because it's my favourite colour, it's stereotypically male. Then I varied, pink and purple, both colours I like but don't wear much. Maybe at my heart I want to be who I am, the out-there kind of guy who will run around in glitter, but I have that feminine side, still, obviously. Everyone who knows me knows I can't be 'masculine' to save my life.

But as we talked, I had that legitimate eureka moment, where I understood, because Jack is raised in a world where everything is spooky and nobody is truly happy about mundane things, unless it's mundane by the town's standards, and he really doesn't fit in, because he doesn't get that as much as they do. Then he finds the Christmas town, and though he goes about it all wrong, he realises that's what he wants.

And he struggles with it, because nobody ever goes against the town like that.

I get that. I'm sure a lot of people do.