Journey of a FtM
2014-07-30 18:54:39 (UTC)

Basically A Story

You see, the thing is that whenever I look into a mirror, I see a boy; a boy with long hair and small breasts. Then, after I have seen that hair and those breasts, I see a girl; a scared and hopeless little girl.
A girl who isn’t meant to exist, and is yet afraid to go.
And the boy tries to come back. He’ll appear, waver, and then disappear again. Once leaving the mirror, he comes back, but feels dysphoric. He hates his image. He hates how he looks like a girl. He wishes that he could end his life and start over brand new.
But that won’t happen.
He refuses to leave his older brother alone. Yes, their parents are still alive and living with them and taking care of them, but that boy doesn’t trust them to still take care of his brother if he were to commit suicide.
So the boy suffers. Day by day, he tries to be a girl and that girl takes charge. But the image is never perfect and the boy is always peering through, trying to find his chance to be himself.
But never has he truly been able to have that happen.
And he hates it.
Occasionally, the girl will appear. The girl will be happy. She’s beautiful and elegant. She could’ve been the perfect princess or an excellent wife. She could’ve lived a happy life.
But the boy started showing himself more. The parts of him that had been interwoven with the girl started separating. He formed and she improved. And he won.
Now he is he, but can pass as she. It’s horrible for both of them. She just wants to make her family happy and live a romantic life, with good grades and a perfect future. He just wants to be happy and be himself, with whatever grades come his way and a perfect future.
And although the two coincide occasionally, they will never be together again. He will always be trying to die and she will always be trying to make others happy. And inevitably, this will lead to their deaths.
Unless of course he can convince people to see him and let the girl go. The girl can part and be at peace, knowing that things would get better, while he became himself and carried out her missions as thanks.

Now if only he could be he…

I wish that I could kill her. I wish it so badly. I want to strangle her. Slit her throat. Crash her skull. Squeeze her heart. Anything, just as long as the result was her funeral.
I know that makes me sound evil. I know I sound sadistic and cold-hearted, but my feelings comes with good reasoning. She’s trying to control me. She’s ruled over me all my life so far and now nobody sees me. It’s only ever her.
Heck, I don’t even see me. Whenever I look into a mirror, I see her, never me!
I wish I could see me.

There’s a feeling not everybody feels. It’s called dysphoria, and is mostly unique to the Trans* community. It pretty much means that you hate your body. I hate my body, well I at least abhor it. It’s horrible, as it doesn’t represent me. “Me” meaning my mind: my gender identity. Right now it shows my sex, something that is not a correct representation of who I am inside.
Let me tell you something. Let me tell you a secret. I was born in a female body, but I will die as a man.
I refer to myself as a man. Or Trans*; Transgender; Trans*man; FtM.
For 15 years of my life I was content living as a Tomboy. Around my 15th birthday though, I discovered discovered the meaning of the word Trans*. I started looking into it more because for some peculiar reason I was intrigued. I don’t remember why I kept looking, but eventually I broke down crying in the middle of watching a YouTube video about a boy who had finally finished [as he considered it] his journey of transitioning. At that moment I realised that I was like him. I finally knew why I never fitted in with the girls and why I preferred dressing like boys; why I was always such a loner and frequently depressed.
So now I’m attending a girl school, as a girl, knowing I’m a boy inside. I’m depressed and suicidal and I’ve got no professional help whatsoever.
This is going to be like a journal for me where I will write my thoughts and retell my day in a fantasy world. I won’t use the people’s real names, but I will use their real positions. Please don’t anybody judge me. I am human, just like you.

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