Letter

But,

I'm afraid

Character who I am watching: Off in the afterlife/otherworld about to oversass a psychopomp/bureaucratic god telling them the 3 possibilities of the next life.

One of the possibility bubbles "br-groom" and where we get sent --> At a lodge preparing for my wedding. Some family members talking about how they miss Harm and "wish she were still reasonable", I shoot off some sort of firework that displays a sailors hat and an anchor ((lol hey sailor)) . Me: "Well, tough, I am not her anymore. Harm is dead." "Kiss my ass I am getting gay married to another dude. Now shut it or leave"

Me as a dude, a trans dude, marrying a cis-ish gay man.

Shortest my hair has ever been, hottest I have ever been.

I claim my vanity. My vanity is part of the external actualization of my self. And that I am a straight up hottie. And I get hotter everytime I project my truth, rather than deny and bury it.

And someday I will be a Hottie McHimbo, with another language or 2 under my belt.

-realizing FOR REALZIES that I was a bisexual, very queer, and reading any and all queer books I could get my hands on

-sunscreen

-joining a strength sports gym, sweating bullets while pushing the sled, Strongman competitions, gaining competence in my own mechanics

-wearing shoes that didn't fucking hurt

-realizing I wasn't a woman and letting go of that false persona of a fuckable cool girl (TM) that seemed to be my only avenue for sexual gratification in my early 20s

-my undercut and still having so much thick af hair

-trying a binder and then realizing that I prefer sports bras and bralettes

-finally having genetic testing done for cancer risk. Getting the results call that I do not have BRCA or any genetic markers for the cancer that took my mom so fucking early

-having a Paragard IUD installed ❤❤❤

- closing the old bank account opened by parent and opening one that no one else could access

- graduating

-finally getting to dictate my own field workwear

- greek yogurt and protein pancakes

I wanted them. I wanted them to want me. It seemed they would only want hegemonically feminine women and only that could give me societal value. I wanted them physically, so I did my best to present that way. Though as time went on I felt like a sicker and sicker liar until I moved to a more metropolitan area with a much larger queer community and was introduced to terms like nonbinary, genderqueer, and gender non-conforming.

And now I know that I know I want my partner, regardless of their gender, to want me and find me attractive, regardless of my expression.

Want in my velvet dresses, want in my full suit, want me in my giant sweats and furry legs.

Love,

Pls do not refer to me ever 🤷‍♂️

(They/them) - cool, my preferred pronoun, still feels like I need something else but it is better than anything else

(Ze/hir) - very cool, if I get the hang of using these, would love to sometimes use this Leslie Feinberg classic, I still trip up on how to pronounce/also don't see very often

(He/him) - Ooooo, if you use this for me in a social setting, I will probably flirt with you. These are very flirty, sexy pronouns for me

(She/her) - okay if you are my grandma or my great aunt or close family that at the very least gets that I am gender non-conforming. But if you are a cis man that doesn't know me and use this for me while disrespecting me, I WILL END YOU

I pledge myself 2 more years to get sorted so that I can finally shine through in all my personhood.

It would have been this year but after all of the myriad ways that the pandemic has derailed my life, and life in general, I will need the extra time to rebuild and lay the foundation for becoming truly unapologetic and visible.

2 years.

Y'know

Maybe I am just a weak thin-skinned kid with Rejection Sensitivity.

But having my experience with social dysphoria, told on a specifically Trans/Nonbinary slack, met with a "😪" emoji, no explanation, feels like the kind of rejection statement that says "kill yourself, you're a waste of space, and you don't belong here, so die"

And I know that is just my emotions and propensity to take shit so fucking personally because I am just an angry crybaby boy who never gets picked at dodgeball, but damn that shit sparks more suicidal ideation, than the actual misgendering I had today

Like OBVIOUSLY I KNOW OTHER GENDER VARIANT FOLKS are going through worse shit than getting called "Miss" by a dude working for Xfinity, but fuck, I thought I was supposed to be allowed to share my shitty dysphoric stuff at that Slack of all fucking spaces.

But people who are getting surgeries or hormones will always get more trans credentials than folks like me.

Or maybe it is just me

And I should just fucking shut up and die already.