Who am I?

The guy's basically my best friend and I only lived with him for a five week program, and now I'm home and it's five in the morning because I'm trying to learn to sleep again without imagining talking to him while I pass out. Not in a creepy way, mind you - just asking him how his day was, him asking me about mine, whether or not I should get him anything when I go out tomorrow morning.

Sure, sure, the program's the most wanted and loved I've ever felt in my life or whatever, and yeah, he was a big part of that, but can't a guy get some damn sleep for once? I shouldn't have to think about some dude who isn't here and would think this is insanely weird and probably hate me for it just to fall asleep at night, and I know I have to break the habit, but this sucks.

The worst part? Last night, when I managed to fall asleep, he was literally in my dreams. I just want to live life with normal attachments to people instead of getting so stuck on folks that don't think about me for a fraction of the time I spend thinking about them.

It's honestly like people can smell that desperation for friendship on me, too - when it's not making me want people who aren't there, it's pushing people away with how needy I get for any kind of human connection. Don't even get me started on any amount of skin to skin contact with people who don't just see me as a creepy transsexual perv - I miss that almost as much as this fucking guy.

I wish I felt things less strongly, I guess, and that way I wouldn't have to deal with this, but all of my strengths in life come from how strongly I feel almost every emotion. I guess I wish I was less human, or something - just that I didn't long for this weird connection with any person that happens to be nice to me. I know he's great but I don't want this; I don't ever want to feel this way about anyone.

It's a good trans allegory - this is Peter post medical transition, being able to be selfless and focus on others, and he's criminalized by the same people he's trying to help for how testosterone (or his arachnid hormones, or whatever) makes him aggressive and violent when it's only in response to their shitty behavior.

I think all that's well and good, but it's also the problem.

Don't get me wrong, I was literally jumping with joy coming out of that theater. Must've looked like a complete idiot. At a certain point, though? Not sure when, but maybe on the ride home, or eating dessert, or sitting on the edge of my bed listening to the soundtrack and pretending to fold laundry - I just started thinking: "well at least you get to have powers, spidey."

I don't have powers. I can't help anyone. I can't prove anyone wrong. Nobody with powers is coming to save me, either. I'm basically just the shittiest parts of Spider-Man. No matter how many times I'm hit, I will always get up, and that's only to be knocked down again and again with no progress.

I've started T and I'm exactly where I've always wanted to be? Cool - now, I have to compare myself to cis guys that I can't beat at anything. I've got a binder that fits? Yeah, great, now I never want to take it off - he's got natural webbing and super-strength and I've gotta keep my half broken webshooters for the foreseeable future. He can prove himself to the people around him and show that he can, in fact, do both? Awesome, let me go up to the people in my class who want me shot dead for being transsexual and let them know how I feel! Won't that go so well?

At the end of the day, though, I can complain all I want, but at least I do, in some way, feel like spidey. That's all little me would've wanted when I was holed up in my room drawing myself in a supersuit, debating whether or not to erase my long hair and give my sona broader shoulders. I guess that's worth it. Everybody tells me it is.

I don't know.

Living your life happily aside from a constant sinking feeling of dread isn't worse than living life depressed and suicidal, but it's sure as hell not fun. I wish I could swing over the city or walk on walls or do anything but be the absolute loser I am at home. I can't even walk in public without getting fucked with by some group of guys for what I'm wearing or how I talk or whatever, and most of it is because I was born female - even if they don't know I was at all.

Maybe eventually I'll finish my own cycle of rebirth, and not feel so alone.

Maybe I just need to let it go and grow up, take whatever the world throws at me because that's how it's meant to be.

I suppose I do.

Keep my hair buzzed for at least a year (July 8 2027)

Stretch (preferably 5mm) my lobes and pierce at least one other area of my choosing

Have a minimum of three tattoos or other body modifications (scarification, etc)

Attain a visible (preferably large) accidental scar and a prominent forehead/brow wrinkle

Grow sideburns, a goatee, or any other facial hair of my choosing and maintain it for at least one year

Carry a quality knife, own a pair of quality paratrooper boots and an adequately fitted leather jacket

Eat copious amounts of apples, cheeses, and red/cured meats

Open doors, pull out chairs, clean up tables, be generally polite and friendly

Be ready and willing to purchase any item upon the request of a close friend or family member

Be kind to all animals and form close connections with any creature present, celebrate their lives and deaths as I would another man's

Do not cry aside from weddings (my own or that of a close friend), funerals, or in the privacy of my own home with a partner or a maximum of three friends of choice

Create a sense of shock or unease in even close friends if I ever come to tears

Possess no shame over my sexual perversions, voice them loudly and with confidence

Bed both a man and a woman satisfactorily with no expectation of pleasure in return

Sleep with and maintain some sort of publicly apparent sexual and fiscal relationship with a controversially younger man or a controversially older woman for at least one year

Wed a woman (living in any location of her choosing) or take up permanent residence in a secluded location with a man

In the unlikely reality where children are present: have at least one biologically related child which receives no preferable treatment over any other children; camp, hike, and play sports with all children; be a better father than my own

Hunt, kill, and eat something without using a gun

Become skilled in at least three masculine hobbies

Work with my hands for at least two years

Own a pitbull

Win a street fight

Conquer an intense fear

Have at least one major regret

Have at least one minor addiction

Feel more commonly understood by members of the male sex