August 2017*
Younger me looked so… young. He always did. This time I felt convinced I was talking to a freshman rather than someone only a year behind me, certainly a junior in high school. Without thinking about it too hard, I realized I had spent the better part of this precious hour making small talk.
“But the future… future… hmm. I mean it’s been a boring year. We made friends with the transfer student, Amber. She’s nice. Classes are easy as always. It's been a coasting year for sure. Everyone applied to Central State for college and we all got in. Gee, there really isn’t anything to say. Oh! SkyDream was super fun. Definitely pick that up at launch.”
My past self frowned, but all I could do was shrug meekly.
“Is there anything you wanted to know?” I fidgeted. I didn’t want to talk about anything really personal for some reason. I viewed this past self as the perfect Christian and I didnt want to talk about how my faith had died or how I was so drawn to Amber because she was the first gay person I’d gotten to know. What would my past self think? Maybe he’d hate Amber instead of opening up as I did.
“No… I don’t know. Thanks for the reassurance, I guess…”
God, I hated disappointing myself. I squinted as a faint ringing noise grew louder and the room brightened. That meant time was up and I was about to hear from my future self. I promised myself I wouldn't be disappointed, crossing my fingers for a girlfriend or something as the ring became deafening.
August 2018
I blinked as my vision came back; the coffee table was there with the artifact nestled in its pillow, but so were my friends. James looked up at me and so did Riley and Sarah in turn. Before long they were all staring at me, but my future self wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“What?”
James opened and closed his mouth a couple times. “He said… you couldn’t make it.”
“I didn’t show up?” My promise to not get angry was forgotten. “What’s my excuse? Am I dead in a year!?”
The sad faces of my friends did not encourage me.
“I’m not sure,” Sarah murmured. “She…” Sarah paused and shared a look with Riley. “My future self mentioned you, but she was super cagey.”
“Do we have a falling out?” I was sweating now but they were all shaking their heads. Some small comfort that was.
“No, I think… you just didn’t want to come next year.” Sarah was watching me sympathetically, but I couldn't meet her eyes. I had nothing for this year. No roadmap. I always had something; even the snippets I’d remembered to give myself just now had led to a new friend…
Amber and Riley still weren’t meeting my eye, but after a long moment Amber whispered. “She just said to protect h—... you… protect you.” Her brow furrowed a bit as if she were searching for some connection to make. Riley nodded her agreement, meeting my eye at last as she seemed earnest to be past the subject.
“Oh. Well is there any cool news for the year?”
James brightened considerably, launching into a tale of his academic and athletic exploits to come. The future seemed bright for college, I just couldn’t fathom why I had nothing to say about it.
October 2018
“So you’re worried about your grades, then.” My therapist, bless her heart, seemed awful fixated on that.
“No, I mean maybe but not really? I just feel lost. Like I had a plan and lost it.” Not for the first time, I found myself cursing my future self. I mean, in a sense I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't wanna talk about dropping out of college halfway into the first semester either. I didn't really miss my parents, though. And I didn’t miss going to church. It had just been hard to focus on studies with how depressed everything made me. The pervading wrongness of my body was getting worse and I knew it was because I had opened Pandora's box. It had seemed so harmless when I was just thinking God might be a social construct and pansexuality would be cool and fun, and now here I was, probably pansexual and confused as hell.
I realized I had spaced out as my therapist looked at me with more than a little concern.
“I have a dream for the future, I think, I just can’t see myself in it. I always want to be someone else or look like someone else to exist there.” It felt wrong to spin my borderline fetish take on sexuality, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“So just be that person. Be the person you want to be in the future. Make the choices and adopt the values that would get you there.”
I could feel my cheeks burning. Clearly she had no idea she was asking the impossible, essentially telling me to be a transexual or whatever those people are called. That's what I get for actually digging up my issues in therapy. Was this what they felt? That didn’t seem right. I had so many snarky and sarcastic comments to make, but all that I said was, “That’s impossible.”
“How is it impossible? Let's talk about how you see yourself in the future.”
My mind raced. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. She probably meant emotionally, but I couldn’t very well say, “Shorter, with long hair and soft skin,” could I I? Fuck. I opened this can of worms and I might as well lie in it.
“More confident, I guess. Better dressed.”
“Then dress better.”
I found myself sputtering again. I could hardly wear a skirt to class, after all, but she was going on despite my incredulity.
“You have a bit of spending money right? Work on a new wardrobe. Get clothes that fit you better and express your interests.” She seemed almost to be commanding me, and the more I thought it over, the more the idea took hold.
I could buy some boots. They didn’t have to have heels, but I could get some canvas or leather boots from the thrift store. I could layer clothing, too, get new shirts with more colors and pants that fit well. I could try on vanity frames for glasses too and maybe even get a long coat or something.
“That’ll be your homework. Clothes shopping. Dress like you see yourself dressing, not how you have been dressed by others.”
November 2018
My new boots clicked on the tile as I walked down the hallway to the common room, the sound felt almost feminine with how hard the short heel of the Chelsea boot was, but I felt secure knowing it was more hipster than anything to dress this way.
“Are those new shoes?” Amber made an exaggerated nod to them.
I spun in place, unable to stop myself from giggling. “You talking about these babies?”
“Those puppies new?”
Riley groaned audibly across from Amber as we acted out the YouTube skit, but I decided to drop the silliness to spare my other friend’s rolling eyes.
“Yeah, I got them this last weekend from the thrift store.”
“You garbage hole.”
All eyes snapped to Amber as she continued in her sneering voice:
“You sssssack of a man.” A smile slipped into the corner of her mouth as the other friends starred in concern. But she dropped the act as well.
“Relax, it’s a bit from a thing on YouTube. BDG. Don’t worry.” I laughed with Amber as the rest of our friends looked at us like we were mad.
“But seriously, nice boots. Very cute.” Amber made room on the couch for me as James spoke up.
“Aw come on, Amber, don’t call the boots cute! It’s emasculating!”
“It’s fine, James. Don’t worry about it.” I smiled to myself, wondering if Amber knew I would prefer that.
James held up his hands in defeat and kicked back in his chair a bit. Amber seemed smug but the look seemed directed more at me than James for some reason.
“So what did y’all want to meet about?” I put my feet up on the ottoman next to James’s and glanced around.
“This is an intervention,” James began in a mock-serious voice but Riley cut him off.
“We wanted to hang out since you sorta disappeared a few weeks ago. You can't seem to make it to anything unless we come here. So I guess we wanted to chat.”
I scratched the back of my head, half warmed by the sentiment and half embarrassed at my flakiness. “Yeah, I've been kinda redoubling my work on school stuff since I almost fell behind. I've been kinda trying to pull myself out of a downward spiral, y’know?”
“We do,” Amber cut in, “and we want to help… Is there… anything else you wanted to tell us? You know you can tell us anything.”
Everyone seemed to stare into my soul for a second and I felt my face heating up. “Uh.”
Sarah was the one to break the silence. “We thought you might be changing your name or something.”
Everyone else glared at her like she had let out a big secret.
“What? We all heard our future selves call him Mikah instead of Jake!”
I froze. Unable to breathe as I considered the implications, vaguely I heard conversation continue and I was brought out of my panic by Riley nudging my foot.
“It’s chill, dude,” she said.
“It’s just… I mean, yeah, I was considering changing my name. Vaguely. Geez, it’s uncanny for y'all to know before I did. You knew all this time?”
Everyone but James nodded with varying levels of sympathy.
I shrugged to nobody in particular. “Yeah, I guess I did. I guess it’s inevitable, too, but that still doesn’t tell me why I didn’t see myself three months ago. And yeah, I began thinking of the name thing like, last week. My therapist told me to be who I see myself being in the future and, well… I don't see myself being Jacob anymore.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mikah,” Amber said, and the others nodded or murmured their agreement.
“It still doesn’t explain why you didn’t show up for the jump. But maybe that was a completely unrelated thing. Maybe you get in a horrible accident and are in a coma for it...” Riley trailed off under the glares of the other three friends as I tried not to think about that.
“Anyways, we should go out or something,” James said, standing and dusting off his pants. “Lets go to Doggo’s, I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” I teased, but I stood as well and followed his lead out to the parking lot. All the while I wondered why the future me had chosen that name in particular.
February 2019
The socks arrived today. Today was the big day. Bright happy thigh-high socks that nobody would see for a long time. I picked up the package from the mailroom and practically ran to my dorm, stopping for nothing and no one till I got to my room and had locked the door.
“This is normal,” I whispered to myself as I tore open the package. It took a minute, but I got my boots and pants off and rolled the socks on. I found myself repeating that as a mantra, not sure if I was rationalizing or convincing myself as I stood and walked around in them.
Socks are just clothes, right? I saw myself happy in long socks and now here I was, happy in long socks! No big deal. I looked down and up again feeling a blush work on my cheeks despite the privacy of my room. Yep. no big deal.
Jeans felt different with socks like this under them, somehow more feminine. So did the boots, and before long I was back at the computer furiously shopping for more garments. A skirt seemed like a small experiment, nobody would notice if my plaid over shirt was actually a blouse, a simple sports bra wouldn’t be noticeable under layers, either, so I might as well try that, too. Soon the numbers on my cart were breaking three digits and I imagined I could hear my wallet screaming in terror. But what was a few weeks of ramen next to this euphoria?
That’s what they called it on r/traa, at least, and sure, I don't really belong there, since I’m cis and this is just a fascination, but they’re just words.
My thought process screeched to a halt. One too many justifications had been used and a new train of thought sprung into existence.
Who decides if someone is cis? That's my choice, right? I feel like I was born cis, though. Maybe. Part of me wanted to put off those thoughts again, but another small part of me urged me to take those ideas down and look at them for a while as I had once done a few months back. It wouldn’t be so different, right? Sure, it felt like opening Pandora’s box again, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world to not be cis?
I thought back to when I’d decided I was pansexual. Pansexual people seemed so cool, they could love anyone and be with anyone and that meant options! I could use options, so I decided I wouldn't be straight. And I'm not. Or maybe I never was. I still don't imagine myself with guys, but I do imagine someone with guys and wish I was that someone… but that’s different, that’s... gender. That’s… the issue right now. I do wish I was a girl. And every day another person says that's all it takes to be a girl, but girls are just so much more than what I am. At least more than what I am now.
Crossdressers are a thing too, though. They wear clothes and perform a caricature of the opposite gender; maybe I'm just crossdressing! I glanced back at the cart, plain clothes with the vaguest sense of benign femininity. Fuck. Dressing in clothes I like isnt a performance. I'm not trying to crossdress, I’m trying to be authentic, which means femininity is authentic to me, which means--
Tears burst from my eyes unbidden as I stared at the things I wanted. Logic had sent me into a corner and now I had an uncomfortable truth. I was one of them. One of the people I was told to hate. Of course I didn't hate trans people, not anymore, really. Fuck, I-- I envied them, didnt I? I mean, I don't like Maria as a person that much, but I don't think she's a bad person. Or depraved for being trans. Fuck--fuck--fuck. My parents would hate me. But they don't have to know? But they will know eventually. All of my family… will grow to hate me. I would have hated me a year ago. Is that… could that be why I didn't show up six months ago? Was it a shame? I’d promised I wouldn't hate my future choices, why wouldn't future me believe that? Of course… I already don't really want to tell myself half a year ago. I guess I don't have to.
I hit the purchase button, numbly enjoying the brief hit of serotonin from retail therapy, before I dialed Amber. She picked up after two rings.
“Hey?”
“H-hey.” My voice felt disused as if I had cried for an hour rather than shed the single tear I had. “I, uh... I think I might be trans.”
There was a painful silence on the line as the bombshell dropped. I was about to say sorry or goodbye when she spoke at last.
“Yeah, I think you might be.” Her voice sounded tight, but it might have just been the signal.
“I’m sorry. This is awkward, I'll just--”
“No! No. I mean it's not a bad thing, it's just... My future self called you Mikayla… I just didn't want to make it weird? Geez, this is weird. Even still… you don't have to be trans if you don't want to. I mean, I assume you want to, but the future isn't set in stone, even for us. You know that, right?”
“I just want to be me…” The tears had started again.
“Then just be you!” she urged me. “Don’t fixate on some predestination ritual we do every year and just be you. Maybe you didn't show up last summer because Mikayla wanted you to be you. You don't necessarily have to be her, but you can, okay? Does that make sense?”
I laughed through my tears. “Not in the slightest.” I wiped at my face as Amber laughed as well.
“Yeah, time travel is fuck. I’m still trying to grasp how wild it is to join in on the ride. Maybe you are doomed to be a girl. Is that so bad?”
I couldn’t help grinning like a fool. Doomed to be a girl. What a wonderful fate that would be. I wouldn’t have to work at it, I would just be fated to get there. Simple and easy. Inevitable.
“You’re right, it isn’t so bad…”
Her voice sounded distinctly smug as she lowered her voice. “That’s pretty fucking gay.”
June 2019
The trouble with getting a new wardrobe when you still live in a conservative town on school breaks, is that if you forget to buy anything formal, you have to wear old clothes for church. Oh, also church is the trouble. Obviously.
I stood in the mirror biting my lip. My family had been quietish about the undercut, but they wouldn’t be quiet about my lack of church clothes unless I compromised. And this compromise was not a cash money look. One crumpled polo I had left behind last year and my newish black skinny jeans.
I looked horrible.
I hadn’t begun to realize how much I relied on clothes for my self image, and now that I was monochromatic in old clothes, I felt despair. I didn't dare try to hide bra-straps under this shirt, which meant for the first time in four months, I was without my security net of familiar discomfort. Sure, I didn't wear it at home, but this would be outside. Maybe it was lucky HRT hadn’t done much in one month, but I already could tell sensitivity would be an issue.
“We need to go!” Mom called up the stairs.
I pulled at the hem of the shirt one more time before heading downstairs. My boots provided a small familiar comfort as they clicked down the hallway.
Mom hardly looked me over before urging me into the van. I could sense she was upset about my hair, and my shoes, and well… she called about the doctor’s bill for the hormone clinic, but being eighteen had some perks. She didn't know what I'd been prescribed, and while I didn't have the courage to lie, I certainly didn't have to tell her.
What a year it had been, though. Becoming certain I was pan, being trans, starting hormones, passing two semesters of college… in two months I’d even get a snapshot of the future hopefully. Unless I really became a statistic. I put those thoughts out of my mind as we bumped along down the road to church. My friends would be there, probably.
“Wow, you look miserable.” Riley greeted me with a smile at the door, pulling me into a quick hug before leading the way to the coffee bar.
“I don't like wearing old clothes, okay?”
“Well, maybe you should have thought about that--”
“Yeah, yeah, yak it up, I'll get some dress clothes I like soon.” I poured each of us a cup as she leaned against the counter.
“Is your mom being cool?”
“Not really.” I sighed as I dumped sugar into both of the small cups “She hates everything about how I look. Probably wants to pull me out of college.”
”She wouldn’t do that, would she?” James walked up, picking up the conversation flawlessly as usual.
I handed James my cup and started making myself another. “I don’t know. I hope not? I don’t think she can? It’s paid upfront, but she could stop paying for future classes.”
We made small talk over coffee until the antique bell rang over the intercom signalling it was time for assembly. We made our way to class, joining up with Sarah as we funneled in.
The youth minister walked in and he seemed to be looking at me more than anyone as he stood next to the projector and started the Bible class. “Today we will be learning about what the Bible says about homosexuality and transgenderism.”
I rolled my eyes and slumped in my chair. All the Bibles in the class sat conspicuously closed for the entire lesson.
August 2019
I was nervous as Amber drove us to the traditional back to school bash. It had been a year. A full year, quite the hell of a year, but today was the day I would figure out what happened. Not that there was much to figure out. I was going to be there, I could go talk to my past self if I wanted, but it felt wrong. Time continuity felt important, but beyond that it felt wrong to interfere with a baby gay egg hatching. He? She? They? My past self would figure it out just like I had: with a little help from my friends.
“Whatcha thinkin bout?” Amber didn’t take her eyes off the road to bring me from my thoughts.
“I dunno. Excited for tonight I guess. It was a crazy year and I am kinda hopeful that I show up this time, ya know? Even though I’m not going back.”
She nodded and watched the road for a long moment before speaking again. “I think you’ll probably show up. I mean, it's not like we are gonna get in an accident on the way there because I already know I'll be there this year. I practically even already know what I'm gonna say.”
“I guess if you actually remember what you said last year that would work.” I stared out the window at the passing streetlamps, counting down the streets until we got to James’s house.
“I, unlike you, take notes and remember things when these sorts of things happen. I mean, I didn't take notes the first time, but I thought back really hard when it turned out the stuff I was saying came true. It will probably be like that for you, actually -- Like my first time, that is. The timing won’t be so unexpected, but you’ll just be kinda yanked into the meeting with your future self out of nowhere.”
I nodded and after a moment murmured “Probably,” since I knew Amber couldn’t see the nod. “I guess I’m scared of what I'll see. Maybe future me isn't actually trans and I was just reading into stuff. Or maybe I really do die this year and I don't show up anyways and all of this was for nothing.”
I wasn’t watching to see the smack coming and she batted me gently on the shoulder.
“No more of that stinking thinking.” She batted me again for good measure, earning a small smile in return.
“Fine, then. I'm just sure I'll see a self-assured goddess of a woman dressed impeccably with fantastic hair and a body to kill for.”
“A little vain, but I'll take it.”
I rolled my eyes as she turned us into James’s driveway. Riley’s car wasn’t there, but she was always late.
Gravel crunched obnoxiously loud as we walked up to the door. As I reached for the door, Amber stopped me and gently pulled me to face her.
“Seriously, though, are you okay? We can take a moment.”
“It’s fine, we’re with friends. I’ll be okay.”
She pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear. “You’ve got this, Mikayla.”
I felt the blush on my cheeks as I withdrew from the hug and opened the door.
“SURPRISE!” the small but loud chorus sounded as I walked in the door. My shock was quickly replaced by mild amusement as I read the custom banner James had spanned the entry way in: “Congrats, You Lived” was spelled out in mismatched upper and lowercase letters as though three or more different banners had been cannibalized for the project.
"I know you were sweating this time, so I thought we could start later and have the ritual at the beginning of the party instead." James poured me a glass of punch as I found the comfiest seat around the coffee table. Sarah gushed about her new job while we listened and waited for Riley.
It was strange to think it had been seven years. James had found the relic the night before school started in sixth grade. He'd been transported back and had the wildest Deja Vu trip, followed by a meeting with his slightly more experienced self. Each of us had had that our first time, a weird dream shortly before school started back, resulting in some premonitions about the coming year, and as we got older we started remembering better.
We added members to our friend group as they appeared, basically by destiny as they told themselves about us in advance and found us over the course of the year. Still, we kept it fairly secret. Anyone who eavesdropped was told it was a LARP thing or something, while in the case of everyone present we kinda knew too much to not get filled in.
Anyways, the relic, as we called it, was like a beat-up Magic 8-Ball fortune teller, except ours is real magic. To do our "time leap," as Riley calls it, we all touch the relic at the same time. It only works when everyone who's supposed to touch it does, or at least we suspect so, since usually an individual can't activate it alone. James didn't tell us about any extra sessions he was having with it if he was.
Riley walked in before I'd half finished my punch and we made short order of crowding around the little 8-Ball. I was about to touch it when I accidentally spilled my punch on my lap. Amber reached to hand me a napkin, but her sleeve brushed the relic and everything went white.
August 2019*
"Hey there, Babygirl." The older me watched with undisguised amusement as I wiped fruitlessly at the cold patch on my lap.
I blushed at the nickname as she laughed openly at my discomfort. She was dressed similar to me: jeans, boots, a leather jacket instead of a plaid overshirt, I wondered if summer would be cooler In a year, or if I'd just be committed to an aesthetic.
"Am I everything you expected?"
She broke my train of thought, seemingly smug about it. And she laughed as I shook my head automatically. She wasn't really hyperfemme or even presenting that different from how I looked now.
"So, uh… what advice do you have for me?" I fidgeted under her appraising gaze; she seemed to act as though she were genuinely meeting me for the first time.
"Not as much as you'd probably hope for, honestly. Hormones are awesome, buy higher quality underwear, underwires are bullshit, makeup is double bullshit." She paused to take a breath as she rambled.
"Are we even a girl?" I interrupted, steadily more disappointed in the progress I had and hadn't made.
"We don't have to fit in a box. You don't, rather. I don't know why I'm trying to be all 'no spoilers' about this---" She made air quotes as she rambled. "--the concept of gender is fucked up and I settled on a demi-girl presentation. Those assigned male at birth get kinda shoehorned from nonbinary to binary transfem, but I'm rebelling from that in a way. I’m non-binary, but approaching it from a feminine side in hopes of getting away with looking like a butch girl or something."
"So are your pronouns they/them?"
"No, still she/her. Don't worry about that too much for now." Her demeanor shifted a bit as she considered what to say next. "I'm not actually out to Mom. Even still. She just won't take it well and I know it. Dad is cool. The sisters are cool. Everyone is okay with the name change. I went ahead with it legally being 'Mikah' and going by Mikayla as I please."
"I was wondering why you chose that…"
She laughed openly at that. "At this point you chose it. Or time travel did. You aren't blaming me for stuff from two years ago, are you?"
I flushed in embarrassment. "No." I didn't meet her eyes as she continued to laugh. "You seem chipper." I grumbled and she made a small effort to calm herself.
"Honestly, shit’s mega fucked and I'm laughing to cope. But that has little to nothing to do with us, so that's another thing to not worry about too much about." She seemed to read my concern and continued a little more gently. "Okay, so hormones don't just fix everything and you should look into visiting a psychiatrist sooner rather than later… That's worth worrying about. But the other stuff? Knowing would just suck. Trust me.”
I nodded sullenly as she bounced her knee. I recognized the nervous habit.
“Is school okay? And the friendships?”
She nodded distractedly. “I mean it's all in hard mode, ya know? I get fidgety just looking back and I'm scared about the future, too… a lot of things changed while we were figuring this all out. It’s weird that neither of us are wearing masks for this interaction, but this isn't even happening in real time, so I'm just neurotic about that now I guess.
“Masks?”
She ignored the question. “Actually there is something. The stock market. You should invest in zo--"
The ringing seemed to come out of nowhere to drown out her voice and she seemed to become frustrated as I clamped my hands over my ears. She shrugged in resignation and waved goodbye as the lights became blindingly bright.
August 2019
In the present I was left with wet pants and confusion.
“So did you see her?” Sarah blurted before anyone could say anything, prompting Riley and Amber to both groan in frustration. James, for his part, looked indifferent to the revelation as I burned with embarrassment.
“Uh… yeah, so future me… is a girl. Or a girl-adjacent individual…” I looked at James sheepishly, but he seemed confused.
“Oh, are you worried I’ll be weird about it? C’mon, bro-- er. C’mon, Mikah, give me some credit!” He nudged me goodnaturedly as I felt my cheeks burn. Normal folks don’t get outed to their friends like this.
“Just let us know if/when you want different pronouns,” Amber chimed in. She handed me a napkin and I took it without thinking before realizing the spill on my pants was only a few seconds old.
August 2020
“Damn she’s in for a year,” I breathed. Looking at the weary faces around me, I could tell we had all taken it pretty rough. But then again, we had all grown more this year than any year before.
We were all alive, all smiling behind our masks. We’d all given our best to last year and were ready to take on the new year with whatever we could learn. The future wasn’t bright yet, but we always had each other, and cliche as it is, that was the best part.
This is so sweet, and it's really nice seeing other identities represented in these sorts of self discovery stories. Thanks for the upload
Thanks for the praise! And for reading! I forget sometimes that my identity isn't just ridiculously common
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I like how you leave it ambiguous how James thinks most of the story. Also, nice choice of legal name there.
All the Bibles in the class sat conspicuously closed for the entire lesson.
When you have to "Sappho and her friend" the star of your holy book to use it to justify bigotry, that's to be expected.
Thanks for reading! I modeled James after a good friend of mine who is kinda lukewarm about my transition. He's supportive in his own way I suppose. The Bible class is fun tho because a different friend experienced his mom telling the youth minister to preach on homosexuality when he visited over break because she suspected he was gay. So canonically Mikah's mom is responsible for that shitty day in church
. I super duper appreciate you dropping me your detailed thoughts! Thanks so much!
lol i too love a BDG
He's so good! Definitely one of my favorite celebrities.
@ForeverEgg and that's not even the wildest part
That was really cool! I don't think I would have been as ethical about time travel as they were lol
Same tbh. I just don't know how I'd write my way out of the paradoxes my dumbass would create.
This really would be such a cool ability to have, especially if you can change things..
twould be bloody convenient. for this headcannon you absolutely *can* change things, but your memory of the previous meeting updates so you don't really feel like anything changed.
I could feel my cheeks burning. Clearly she had no idea she was asking the impossible, essentially telling me to be a transexual or whatever those people are called. That's what I get for actually digging up my issues in therapy. Was this what they felt? That didn’t seem right. I had so many snarky and sarcastic comments to make, but all that I said was, “That’s impossible.”
Wtf am i gonna go to therapy for??? So I can pay money just for some bit*h to tell me I'm trans? To find out im trans and in the closet? To help me discover that deep down im a trans ass pansexual woman? Lmao pass. Miss me with that shit. Im cis. I am cis
therapy is obviously just to be reassured that all the normal things you do to feel normal are normal because everyone thinks the same thoughts and agrees to not talk about them.