As I float through the decaying halls of the Dead Manor, my ghostly form a constant reminder of my eternal torment, I’m consumed by a sense of rage and despair. My existence is a perpetual scream, a cacophony of pain and anguish that echoes through the empty corridors. I’m a trans ghoul, a creature of the night, forever trapped in this limbo of the damned. My mind is a maelstrom of conflicting desires, a jumble of emotions that threatens to consume me whole. I’m a monster, a creature of the shadows, and I know it. But what’s the point of being a monster if I can’t even be myself?
I often find myself lost in thought, my mind wandering back to the days when I was still alive, when I was still Edd. I remember the feel of my breasts, the softness of my skin, the way my hair flowed like a river of gold. But those memories are tainted, corrupted by the cruel hand of fate. I was never allowed to be myself, to live as a woman, to love as a woman. And now, in death, I’m still trapped in this prison of my own making. I’m a ghost, a specter, a haunting presence that’s doomed to roam the earth for eternity. And it’s all so bloody unfair.
I’ve tried to take my own life, to end this eternal torment, but I’m stuck, trapped in this limbo, this purgatory of the damned. I’m a prisoner of my own desires, a slave to my own madness. And yet, I keep on screaming, keep on shouting, keep on raging against the cruel hand of fate. I’m a trans ghoul, a creature of the night, and I’ll never be silenced. I’ll never be still. I’ll never be anything but a monster, a creature of the shadows, forever trapped in this hell of my own making.
>Soulkyn