milne355

Because I experience gender as a hole I carry, a hollow place calling out for a body like a Junji Ito story, except there is no hole that I will ever fit in. I carry it and pretend it's not there until something reminds me that a part of me is missing, empty, a gnawing feeling that I can't satiate. I experience gender as a place I've only been in dreams, something that felt real until I opened my eyes and woke up in someone else's bed. I look in the mirror and I experience gender as a horror movie where someone else is looking at me, watching me from within, something foreign, something alien, something monstrous. I experience gender as a dead monster, once alive and unafraid of anything but the fire without, wielded by hands taught to burn everything outside a norm dictated by hands that have never held a torch. I am the creature lying prone on th ground, waiting for a finishing blow. I experience gender as an apology, that I wasn't strong enough to finish the job of slaying the monster that lives behind my wet, bloodshot eyes. I can't help but feel like at some point I failed a task I was taught since birth, when they looked down and saw a woman and not the monster I became. I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear. I say it to the creature in the mirror; I'm sorry something about you is missing but you don't know what. I'm sorry about the hole. I'm sorry I'm sad about it. I'm sorry that on my good days I'm not. If I am a woman I am hollow all the way down, if I am a man I am empty to the core. I experience gender as a noose woven from my own hair, cut and cut and cut and soft and soft and soft. It tightens and I have long since stopped thrashing. I experience gender as a squeeze of the chest, a weight on the throat, an involuntary kick.

I tell her to be my guest and give me a call when she gets her jaw broken, I always carry a first aid kit and a pepper spray.

She calls me a misogynistic asshole.

A cis man tells me that he'd sure love some T.

Gave him my prescription and best of luck with the constant shortages and getting denied.

He calls me a pussy.

I'm fighting for my life and reproductive rights. I get told to get off women's fights, that it's not about me, like I shed my womb after my first T shot.

I search for support groups for SA victims, and I'm stuck in the same “women/NBs only”. Still shooting my shot, send an application. I introduce myself. Never get a call back.

I go to a trans night. Say I go by he/him. Get told back “yeah, that's how we all start !” by a trans woman. I'm too exhausted, I get up and I leave.

I hang out with my friends, one of them drunkenly says masculinity is a prison we must learn to escape. She gets rows of applause. Back to drinking alone.

Yes I could explain it. But who'd you rather be ? A delusional girl or a man made threat ?Or it could be better, I could just not exist ! And we'd bleach my corpse and I'd become a casualty. Not an F, ot an M, a W for Wound and for Wrong.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (You're Here)

After the events of the "Gun Adventure", the story takes a turn as Caine decides to postpone his "Escape the Circus" Adventure. As a last minute decision, he has the group play a small game of "Truth or Dare". Pomni continues to try to reach out to Jax, but he continues to spiral.

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