happyfish | In other words...

I remember when I started questioning my gender, about two years ago now, that I would write a lot. Just write and write and write. Try to get the muddled thoughts out of my head and onto paper and see if they made more sense that way. Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn't. I remember one of the things I wrote then, that I keep forgetting about and then remembering again, over and over again.

Sometimes I feel like the strange mixture between a dyke and a fag.

I think that's as close as I will ever get to describing how I feel about my gender in words. I use 'genderqueer' sometimes. 'Transgendered.' 'Transguy.' 'Boi.' They're just for convenience. They don't fit. Nothing fits. I'll use the single words so I don't have to go on and on about something that I can't articulate. Especially if I'm speaking.
Sometimes I'm jealous of my other trans-friends because they seem so sure. So secure in their identity. I know it's a lie. I know they're probably just as insecure as I am. It's just - I may never know if I want to transition. There are times when I actually like my body. There are times I hate it. James came out and started hormones within about three months of telling everyone he was trans. It's been almost two years since I came out to myself and it may be another two before I make a decision. Or decide never to decide. I don't know.
I find it interesting that I always remember I'm genderqueer just before my parents come back. And then my mind gets fucked over and I feel so fucking sure I want to transition, take hormones, something, just so they could fucking understand and use the right fucking pronouns sometimes.
There are no right pronouns. It would be so much easier if there were.