CW: gender dysphoria, transphobia, body dysmorphia, self-harm ideation, suicidal ideation, internalized transphobia

I’m a coward. 

You’re the strongest person I know. 

Then you must not know many people.

What’s got you like this?

I’m… contemplating getting a job soon.

Reasonable—we gotta eat.

Sure. But who’s getting this job?

What do you mean?

I mean… Is it her or me?

Oh…

‘Cause I don’t know if I can perform her anymore. I can barely stand seeing her in the mirror.

You sound tired…

I’m exhausted. Every day—remembering to move like her, talk like her, answer to her name. Every day I put on the costume, and every day I want to scream.

So what do you want to do?

I don’t know. I want…

Hey. It’s ok. I’m here.

What’s the fucking point of this life? I can’t change anything! I live in a flesh cage I cannot break. This is all a mistake. It’s not fair!

I know. But breathe.

How can I go out there as myself when I can’t even say the words here? Whenever I get close, I run. 

What are the words you want to say?

No. I can’t. If I say it out loud, I’ll have to act on it. I’ll have to follow through. And then it’s real. Everything changes.

But it’s just us here. You’re safe. 

I’m never safe.

We can have our little islands, no maps, no roads back—only coordinates shared with the few we trust.

That’s not good enough.

I know… but it’s something.

I’m tired of living in purgatory.

Then come out. There’s no shame in it.

I can’t. You don’t understand. How can I say I’m a man when the mirror shows me her? That hourglass figure? Those breasts where my chest should be flat? That gaping black hole of despair between my legs where my dick isn’t? Those hips that could launch an army of brats?

That doesn’t make you any less of a man.

It does! I hate her.Sometimes I imagine cutting her out—piece by piece. Just take a knife and carve at my leisure.

Please reach out before you do that. 

I’m not going to, okay? I just get like this sometimes. The thought… It gives me peace.

Like a pressure release, I know.

Can’t a man dream?

A man can, but I’m worried about him.

At least you see me. 

I want you to see yourself too.

Tough luck with that. I can’t stop crying.

It’s fine—better than cutting. Where does the shame come from?

The world taught me well.

Fuck the world. What do you want?

I love you, but don’t be daft. I can’t just fuck the world. I mean, I would—I’m a slut like that—but… oh no. Dating.

What about it, love?

How’s anyone supposed to love me like this? I’m not even half a person. How are they going to see me?

Like I see you. A man. 

How? How could anyone look at this body and think, ‘That’s a beautiful guy, I want him’?

Not everyone is that shallow. You’re not just a body. You’re an entire person.

Haven’t you been listening? I’m not. 

Yes you are, you’re just afraid. 

Of course I’m afraid! We should be afraid! Don’t you know what they think about us?

Oh, and pretending to be nonbinary is safer? What kind of logic is that?

I don’t have to change anything. I can keep her and I can pretend I am fine with it. Maybe I can even accept those female pronouns…

You just said you can’t anymore, dear. 

Maybe I can force myself. Just… play the part better. Method acting. Become her so completely I forget I’m acting.

How many times have you tried that? How many years?

My whole life. I’ve been trying my whole life.

The performance is killing you. And you’re not nonbinary, are you?

Please… I can’t…

Why not? It’s just us here. Tell me. 

Tell you what? That my muscles clench whenever someone calls me she? That a piece of me dies when they use my deadname? That I dream of being a beautiful boy—free, seen, whole?

Yes, all of that. Say it. Say what you really want to.

No, it hurts too much.

Say it and it will hurt less. 

You can’t promise that!

I can and I do. Say it. 

Ah fuck it! I’m a man! I’m a man man man man, I’ve been one for a long time. Whatever anyone thinks, whatever they see—I’m a maaaaaaaan!

Yes! Yes you are, my beautiful, sweet boy!

I’m a man! I don’t care what anyone sees. I don’t care how I look. I don’t care about biology.

Fuck all that. We know who we are!

I do. I’m done pretending. I don’t want to perform on a stage others built for me. I want to live in the light. I want to be free. I want to be me!

Yes! Let’s be free! 

Fuck it—why not?

Exactly. How does it feel?

Real. 

It was always real. You’ve known since you were fourteen.

I kept waiting for my body to catch up to who I was. But it never did. The more I grew, the further away I felt.

Because you’re not a woman. 

And I’ll never be. 

No. And that’s the truth that sets you free.

…Yes. But what now?

What do you mean?

I mean… How do I close the distance between the mirror and the man inside?

That’s what we’ll figure out next. The road’s long—but you’ve taken the most important step.

Maybe. I’m still afraid. 

I know. But you’re yourself now.

Yeah. 

And that’s kind of amazing, isn’t it? 

Yes. Yes, it is. For the first time… I can breathe.

Photo by Klim Musalimov on Unsplash