….you’ve come to talk with me again…
I wake up hoping every day that I will wake up and have the body I want.
Obviously, it isn’t going to happen.
I mean, one day I will have a flat chest as opposed to the human equivalent Himalayan mountains. But not without surgery. Not without scars. I isn’t that the scars scare me, they really don’t. Im just often thinking how it is not fair.
I just wish that things were easier. But I know wishing for things won’t make it any easier, it won’t do anything for anyone.
Today I woke up and the sight of my chest sent me nearly vomiting. The sound of my voice set my tears off. I am doubting my passing ability completely and I feel sick to the bone. Because I don’t pass to me therefore I doubt I pass at all.