forever caught in the net of desperately needing to communicate and feeling like I’ve got nothing to say
I have made all these choices, and I made them knowing the risks and embracing my fears, and they have brought me everything I wanted and I regret none of them, even though they have also brought me every bit of the consequences I feared; and I do not regret a single step
I have made myself incomprehensible to everyone but myself; and I am both lonely and alone, a creature apparently without match or mate even among my own kind; and I knew this might happen, but not that it would hurt so badly; and I still don’t regret it
if I could do it all again, I would, adjusting possibly the timing or specific increments but not the overall arc of the transformation
sure, this reads like a 15 year old girl’s livejournal, but it appears to be borne out by the evidence and so has at least the virtue of novelty
