The distinct feeling of being orphaned is back, and it sucks. Once more, I don't feel like I belong anywhere or maintain a purpose. The past 4 months and 13 days have been an absolute nightmare. Wondering through life lonesome and sad, with no one to belong to.
I'm terrified that if or when I let them go the nightmare I'm currently living will get worse. Even thinking about letting them go in fact makes me want to check myself into a hospital for observation. With my history I know I'm capable of doing something stupid. On top of all that, if I change my last name to get rid of the Mazoins name, and abandon all our hopes, dreams and goals in the past. My burning question is who would I be?
Take the most heterosexual male we can imagine, looking in the mirror he sees breasts and a vagina on his body looking through the only tiny windows in his prison cell, his eyes. Imagine what that would do to the most heterosexual male. It’s a life of misery, and one many try to kill themselves to escape. The bulling, and right out discrimination doesn’t help either. Hell I typically never leave my house, because I fear that I will run across the wicked person who hates girls like me and will execute me.
Not that I need to be protected, but yeah it would be nice to have someone here with me if things got awful. I’ve always said that if the world gets too crazy I would bug out in the mountains away from everyone. This would be terrifying, and extremely lonely to do by myself. Nicholas and I talked about this topic before, and he was going to be my protector and bug out buddy. Oh how things have changed.
As my new life started taking shape, Nicholas would enter my world. He would turn out to be my first boyfriend as my authentic self, and I would be his first trans woman ever. Being each other's firsts, I believe made the dysphoria go away, because once we saw each other face to face I was totally okay with being intimate with him
Very quickly I lost sight of the woman who was emerging, and she was hijacked willingly by a smooth talking, good-looking boy. I was forty years old at the time, and here was this young twenty-three year old strapping young man showing me interest. I was completely blinded, and swept up in the moment. I loved how he treated me, and loved the things he would say to me. It was like he knew exactly what I wanted to hear, and knew exactly how I needed to be treated.