Transgender, premed, English tutoring, sarcastic, 25 year old guy with a thing for spicy food, steampunk, writing, and coffee.
Some days it is harder than others. Simple tasks become complex, something which should have been no more than a glance taking a whole range of motion and sluggish thoughts, churning and roiling rather than surging. Boundaries are solid and not broken, when normally they are crashed through with something so simple as a word, not this bang bang bang that is my head, not strong enough, to even make the tiniest of cracks. And words, words themselves fail as my tongue, my prized weapon, sharp and gleaming, is made dull and twisted, every thing I say but a shadow of what should be. And I want to scream but my voice is made hoarse and powerless and it shrinks me and I feel like I should just vanish if the world hasn’t already made me. Some days it is harder when it feels like I am running up a mountain, dodging the feet of giants dancing around me, how they move so much faster and yet cannot see what they are trampling. Some days it is harder to make my hand stop trembling when all I want to do is seem as confident and as ignorant as those around me. Some days I can’t.