Dang.

There are too many stretches of this that could have come out of my own diaries, if I could stand to keep them. I may have cried at the end of the Land of Oz as a kid. Possibly more than once.

Coming from a background where I can only just now as I’m approaching 30 BEGIN to address the things that cause me continuous physical pain, I simultaneously became aware that transitioning therapies existed and that I would never, ever, ever have even the faintest hope of being able to afford them young enough to prevent the testosterone from shattering any hopes of being who I wanted.

*Shrug* I guess nobody much gets to be who they want. Nothing special about that after all.