I Feel Tortured

I always thought that the more I was used to transitioning, the methods, the life, it would become easier. Instead, I feel tortured, there is a constant pulse in the back of my head.

I feel so uncomfortable in my body that the only way to describe it is that even my bones feel uncomfortable as if I don’t fit in my own skin. Sometimes I sit and I stare at my hands and I feel like they don’t belong to me.

“The soul is a prison of the body.”

(Michel Foucault)

That’s the most accurate quote I can find to describe what is happening to me. I look in the mirror and I hate myself, nothing seems to fit; my voice, my appearance, my clothes. Everything is wrong.

Most of the time when I’m out in public I look at other men and I am jealous. The greenest that I have ever felt because they have everything that I’ve never been able to have, and rediculously, I feel like they take this for granted, I know I would.

One word keeps coming to my mind.



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