I hunkered down in the safety of my death room, burying myself underneath a mountain of blankets and pillows. Right after learning how to silence the game’s messenger, that is. There were things in there that I wasn’t ready or willing to deal with.

My bed cave was comfortable. And comforting. And it let me think about nothing but softness all around me. Or cry my eyes out. Either or, really; the fabric didn’t judge.

I couldn’t honestly tell you how much time I spent like that, but I’m pretty sure that the game won’t boot you out of death space until you leave your room. Maybe a programming oversight? Whatever the case, I suspect I stayed burrito’d up like that for a fair bit longer than ROL:E would normally have kept me.

Fuck though. I couldn’t be...that. I just couldn’t. Why would Danny do that!?

Why wouldn’t she just leave my sorry ass self alone…

I’m a waste of fucking space anyway. I may as well just block her, so she doesn’t even need to put up with my fucking shit.

I cried some more, then opened my menu. And stared at the Messenger.

But I couldn’t click on it. Too much of a chicken-shit to even do this. 

But...maybe I could talk to someone whose relationship I having fucking destroyed yet? Of course I’d probably just ruin that-

I forced the thought to stop before I could finish it. I swallowed, hard. 

And again.

And when that didn’t work, I hit myself. Hard.

Some part of me used the self-harm to mentally beat myself up some more. A slightly larger part was very concerned that I’d just hurt myself at all, but the part that I was feeding the most fuel to, grinding my teeth and all, was to get some emotional catharsis.

I opened the messenger, studiously ignored Danny’s tab, and instead went to another.

> Tessa: Hey
> Tessa: I really need to talk right now…
> Tessa: Are you around?

It took less than a minute for the response to come in.

> Candy: Sure! I’m heading to the Newbie Inn r/n. Meet there?

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Then I slowly dismantled my fortress, and dragged my sorry ass to the door.

It took exactly 5 minutes for me to respawn after opening the door (I was anxious enough to time it).

I half scrambled out of my room and down the stairs into the common room. Candy wasn’t inside. So I rushed for the front door and waited outside.

Candy found me there pacing, arms swinging because it was either that or tensing, and immediately gave me a hug.

I jumped a bit, but I guess I fucking needed it. I started crying again and hugged her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Want to go inside and sit down?”

I nodded. She patted me on the head, then gently took my hand and led me in. Candy talked to a bartender, about what I honestly couldn’t have said, and when she came back she led me to a side room, with several large chairs and a loveseat all arranged around a burning hearth. The room smelled faintly of wood smoke; enough to be comforting without being overwhelming, and a stack of folded, furry blankets sat on a table against the far wall.

Candy grabbed a blanket, then brought us to the loveseat, throwing it out so as to cover me in the blanket’s comfort.

“Okay.” She brushed my fingers; my hand still in hers. “What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth to say, but nothing came out. 

I took deep breaths. 

I swallowed dry air.

But the only sound my throat produced were a series of squeeks.

I opened the messenger instead.

> Tessa: I’m a boy
> Tessa: Please don’t hate me

Candy read my message. She had a slightly confused look on her face. Then a shock of understanding “You’ve done nothing wrong. Dysphoria will mess with your brain like that.” She paused. “Would you rather I use he/him pronouns? Do you have a different name you’d prefer.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. She completely mis-interpreted what I was trying to say!

“Please keep calling me Tessa,” I whispered. It was all I could get out before going back to text.

> Tessa: I’m a boy outside, but I’m not feeling dysphoria
> Tessa: Isn’t that the problem? I’m pretending to be a girl, but I’m fake
> Tessa: Just some asshole who’s abusing it to trick people

“Hey now, don’t do that!” Candy sounded a little cross, in a matronly sort of way. She brushed my fingers some more. “Don’t beat yourself up, okay? I don’t think you’re abusing anyone. And if you roleplay a girl, you’re allowed to do that, you know?”

“But, but, but…” I pulled my hand away. My whole body crunched up with tension. I was going to say this!

“I’m not allowed to be a girl!”

Candy just looked at me for a moment or two. It was the look of someone trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together that would unlock the key to some deeper mystery. It was the sort of look where it was obvious that she was worried, not for herself but for me.

I realized I was crying again. 

Fuck. 

That look.

“Tessa. Do you want to be a girl?”

Just like that, all of the tension flooded out of my body. I sat there limp. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her anymore, so I stared into the fire instead.

And, the motion as small as I could make it, I nodded my head.

Then Candy did something I really wasn’t expecting.

She hugged me again. Harder. We sat there like that for a while. Me crying into her shoulder as she hugged me. It felt nice, but I didn’t understand it. This was where she was supposed to hate me, right?

I mean, she clearly didn’t, but this was where it was supposed to happen.

She wasn’t done messing with my expectations either. When I started to calm down, she whispered into my ear: “You’re allowed to be a girl.”

“Wh-What?”

She returned my confusion with a small smile. “You’re allowed to be a girl. The only requirement for being a girl is that you want to be a girl.”

I felt a strange combination of emotions from hearing that. Good, but also anxious.

“But...but wouldn’t I still be faking it?”

“Am I faking it?”

Wait. What!?

“What?”

She booped me on the nose for that one. On the nose! I ignored the butterflies and focused on her explanation.

“I’m transgender.” Candy needed her own deep breath after that one to maintain her composure. She went back to the uncharacteristic whisper from before. “And I’m starting to think you might be, too.”

“But I don’t have dysphoria?”

She pursed her lips at that. “How do you feel when you log out? All anxious about your body? Or maybe like your emotions are all muted and it’s hard to feel? Or just a vague sinking feeling that always follows you around?”

I nodded. “I felt heavy and gross…”

“That, hun, is dysphoria.” She gave me another hug. “But even then, you don’t need to experience dysphoria to be trans. I didn’t even know I had dysphoria until I started transitioning, and it sounds like you didn’t know you had it, either.

This was a lot to wrap my mind around. Too much for all at once, really.

But I was starting to maybe believe her. Maybe…

Maybe I could be trans?

Maybe I was trans.

That thought filled me with too much anxiety, so I bundled up in my blanket and hugged Candy some more. I was pretty sure I’d be there, sitting and thinking and maybe even talking for a while.

And I was starting to think that maybe that was okay.