Before and After

Who keeps on reading these things? That's a mystery whose answer simply doesn't belong to me. (But probably spambots.)

A month after going back on my titty skittles (sorry, Leigh) I find myself feeling right again. Not quite to the point where I can feel the quixotic heart of the world beating in time with my pulse, but ... right. Although one of the downsides of sublingual estradiol is that I get kinda peaky around 10pm. I'm so happy to be me again, but I hate how my neo-puberty causes me to act toward my girlfriend in moments of hormonal strife. A bit too needy and manipulative. I worry that I'm changing a bit much for her. She is a treasure, and I couldn't countenance pushing her away.

Restarting my life causes me to want to write again. The blank page is the ultimate safe space in which to explore one's identity, to expunge the effluvium into a place where you can realize it's just hot air. Let this blog serve as my testament. I don't care if it's another in a long line of transgender narratives; it's my story, dammit, and maybe someday it'll help a girl/guy who finds that they're reading their own story written in mine.

Or maybe that's me justifying my solipsism in the name of activism. We'll never know!