I've spent years trapped in a body that feels like a stranger's, my mind whispering secrets of a truth I've longed to embrace. Growing up, I've wrestled with the weight of a deadname - Alex - a label that never quite fit. The disconnect between my physical form and inner self has been a constant torment, a source of pain that's often left me teetering on the edge of despair. There have been moments when the darkness felt suffocating, when the thought of escaping it all seemed like the only respite. Yet, a glimmer of hope has always kept me tethered to life. I've learned to wear a mask, to pretend, to survive. But the longing to be seen, to be me, has never faded.

I've pretended to be someone I'm not, just to fit into the narrow mold of societal expectations. I've struggled to conform to the rigid gender roles that my community enforced - the dos and don'ts, the shoulds and shouldn'ts. But my heart longed to break free from those constraints. I yearned to express myself authentically, to wear dresses and heels, to cook and clean with passion, to sashay with confidence. The irony was that I was taught to suppress the very things that brought me joy, to hide the femininity that felt so natural to me. But the desire to be myself, to embrace my true identity, only grew stronger with time.

School was a battleground, where my femininity was a constant target. I was taunted and bullied for being too soft, too delicate, too 'girly.' My peers saw me as a traitor to my assigned gender, a 'disgrace to the boys.' Some even threatened to brutalize me into conformity, to 'beat the girl out of me.' But amidst the cruelty, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the girls who seemed to effortlessly embody the femininity I longed for. They got to wear dresses, have long hair, and express themselves without fear of reprisal. I felt like an outsider, trapped in a body that didn't align with my soul.

A deep-seated longing lingered within me - the desire for a boyfriend, not that kind of boyfriend you all are thinking about, someone who could see beyond the façade and befriend the real me. Not just a friend, but a companion who could understand and accept my true self. Yet, the boys in my life seemed determined to make that impossible. Their cruelty and mocking words made me feel like an outcast, leaving me wondering if I'd ever find someone who could look past the surface and befriend the authentic me

While the boys would venture out to play in the fields, I found solace in joining the girls, our voices harmonizing in sweet melodies. My closest companions were girls, and my best friend was a kindred spirit who accepted me for who I was. But my relationships with boys were strained - some ignored me as if I didn't exist, while others mocked me relentlessly. Their scorn and ridicule stung, making me feel like an outcast among my peers. Yet, in the company of girls, I found a sense of belonging and acceptance that eluded me elsewhere.