What if….?

In being trans on the Internet, and in searching out safe places, I’ve read a lot of “how I knew I was trans” stories. And one of the things I’ve realized recently is that my story, as it were, bears a strong resemblance to the way I’ve heard it described by a lot of trans women. 
Like a lot of people, I’m rather uncomfortable with femininity. I don’t like the frills, the constant softening, the demure way women are encouraged to be. But I’m not dysphoric, for the most part- I just don’t relate to those aspects of being a person. 
However, since I can remember there have been times when I find myself admiring men- not in the way of attraction, or desire, but a sort of identifying self. I see straight lines, I regret my curves and slopes. I see Adam’s apples and mourn that my body will not make one. Men have ease to urinate, bass voices, facial hair, slim hips. So many things I lack. But for the fact that my parents were a bit careless with their magazines, I might never have pursued my transness. But by the time I reached second grade I had a word, and the thoughts and curiosities. What if I really am a man?


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