Obtuse piece of floatsam

i hate my life my life is weird oh my gosh 

I think about my sense of identity often, I’m constantly tweaking my style and hair bit by bit that it makes me feel like those games that used to be on children’s playscapes where you make the person (or animal) head match or mismatch the rest of the body in any way you please. I feel hindered by my surroundings, mostly being the way I grew up. When I was a super teeny one I would wear tacky embroidered elastic jeans and fold them over, put my hat on and try so hard to be a guy. Mom would shower me in glitter and sparkles. and SASHES! I am allergic to most metals, I am still a friend of sashes, we make it out for coffee sometimes. Looking at pictures of tiny me,I look like a grumpy metal head boy with long hair a Sonics snapback and a Disney sweater. My first bra, I screamed and kicked and kicked about how I DIDNT WANT BOOBS. MOM I LIKE MY NIPPLES. I was a B cup as an 8 year old and that was so uncomfortable. I ate a ton of food because I wanted to be fat. I wanted it to seem natural that my boobs were there because I was an overweight little boy. There is so much internalized misogyny under this little blue roof,but I’ve learned to live with it. However,I will always wonder if that is an unconscious reason that I identify the way I do. I’m never going to feel completely like a woman no matter how many times I wing my eyeliner or spin in a dress because I wanted to be a boy so strongly. It’s too much pressure.. I think about my anatomy and I think to myself... “With this, my children will never be assumed to be my religion. With this I will always be considered prey. With this I will have to continue to hide” I think about taking testosterone about three times a year. I remember Chaz Bono was the first transition known to me and I thought about transitioning before I had even transitioned into a teenager. I don’t want a penis though,I don’t want a vagina either. Nobody told me my period would happen, I woke up my mom and I told her I was bleeding out and she should say her final goodbyes now. An hour later they had called my cousins to tell them the great news, they lifted me up and told me how proud they were for me and took me out to ice cream. I didn’t even know what was going on! The next day was the first day of 6th grade. I went into the boys bathroom to change my pad, I threw it away in the restroom as a boy was walking in I locked eyes with him and smiled. I knew then.