To be, or not to be

It’s not a question, I am what my mind makes me. Like any woman, I want to be beautiful, I want to be admired for being strong of will and smart of wit. I want to be recognized as a woman, to not be clocked, to pass 100%. I think that is what we all want really. In a perfect world, we would just be us, just the women (or men) that we know we are. But in the real world we have to contend with the bodies we are given, and that means we try to pass, to be a girl or boy in a world that gave us the wrong damn body. I know it’s vanity, but I want to be able to pass. That is a tall order, and a costly one, monetarily and emotionally.

I am so impressed by those who have transitioned, their strength, their will. I am in awe of those who can be who they are to the world. I cower in the shadow, I hide myself away to all. I don’t think I have that courage. I could certainly be shot at and survive a war, but I can’t seem to be who I am to the world, it’s a very odd thing. I think I’m not being judged by the enemy, they hated me no matter what I was. I am judged now, I judge me more harshly than anyone else I’m sure. I feel ugly, I feel like someone put a bag of flesh over me and forced me into this life. I am never comfortable in my body, not awake. I dream and things are different, but waking up is a severe disappointment.

I travel through life, as if I am looking through a window. I am within this building and as I move, the building moves with me, large and bulky with parts I don’t identify with. The building keeps me safe from others, I can see them through the window. But the price is I can never feel the air outside, I can never truly embrace an encounter.

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