(WIP 1ST DRAFT) Welcome To The Mind Games

D - Regretfully Vulnerable

A quickly caught up to me, he was a fast runner, I noted. That'd be useful in time. We walked to where the trees thinned out a margin and morphed from cedar, pine and spruce to softwood type trees; oak, birch and the like. I held little to no interest in foraging, with my skillset it seemed far below me, but if I was to conceal my cache of supplies hidden nearby I'd have to play along with mundane tasks like this. As we walked in silence A eagerly scanned every bush with keen, bright eyes hoping they may bear fruit. His obsessive observation proved, quite literally, fruitless.

The most amusing aspect of his search was every single time the bushes were bare, his face fell with dramatic disappointment. I had to suppress the urge to chuckle at the antics. Every time the same hope, every time the same result, every time the same look of a child who let go of their balloon, watching it float out of irrecoverable reach. I'd let my guard down around A one too many times, it was becoming a bad habit. I tried to ignore him, in the hopes of nipping the habit in the bud. If this near constant amusement turned into affection, it could become dangerous very quickly. All the same, it could be useful...

"So, you and B don't seem to get on well huh? Why's that? You got a history?" A obnoxiously interrupted my train of thought. I stuttered a moment, flustered. Small talk? They hadn't told me this... Would involve small talk! "No. No I met him at the same time as you," I finally managed to reply after several heartbeats. Only a half truth. Sure, it was my first contact, but like the others I'd watched B and C for a while. C was trusting, B was generally not. C seemed basic, but B was more difficult to understand. He had two very different sides; a hard survivalist who trusted no one, and a soft, insecure human being willing to provide aid to others without asking for much in return. Curiously, although generally I only received the latter and C the former, he flipped like a switch through both when it came to A. But then again, I'd essentially been playing two face the whole time, so I was not one to comment.

"Hmm. That's kind of funny, maybe you remind him of someone." A mused. Inwardly I groaned, clearly he was meaning for a whole conversation now, and was probably expecting me to say something now. I cursed silently. I'd grown up a book worm, a computer addict, a nerd and a social outcast. Always intelligent, but never smart enough to master the art of conversation, chit chat, "hi, how are you?"s and common pleasantries. I'd rather stay at home with my cat then go out to town. I'd actually die if someone forced me to dance at a family gathering. By the time I was a teenager I wanted to change, but I didn't know how, so I stopped trying. My cat was dead by this time. Shame.

Cats. Hmm. That was something people talked about, right? Cat videos went viral on the internet all the time. It seemed a safe topic. "You a cat person or a dog person?" I pondered. A's eyes seemed to shine like he'd spotted another bare bush as he turned to me, then similarly the light died, "I love cats! And dogs! But cats... Oh don't make me choose!" I smiled lightly, "what about rabbits then?" The same affect, oh it was fun to mess with him like this.

We carried on the small talk awhile, and I must say I think I handled it well, by my standards. At least A was easy to talk to, the kind of easygoing person who just seemed to accept whatever was thrown at him. I guessed he was probably gullible, so I told him that once I'd been to Ohio and I'd witnessed someone beat a chicken to death with a toy light saber in the middle of the street. He was so genuinely dumbfounded that I was sincerely sure he believed me. Accurate prediction.

Impulsively, stupidly, I decided to bring up earlier. "Hey listen A, I know it went..." I paused, searching for the right word, I didn't find it so I settled for, "a bit wrong, but I really appreciate what you said. Earlier. To C. About you know, pronouns, and that..." A looked slightly embarrassed, for good reason, but beamed at me. "Don't mention it! I could see how, you know, uncomfortable, I guess? You looked very uncomfortable." I nodded enthusiasticly, even though uncomfortable only half described it. Even in my 20s, dysphoria was a haunting thing, and It'd been really bad before that conversation, let alone during. As much as I'd been looking at my reflection in the knife blade to criticize my hair, it was also the result of a much greater self loathing. As I reflected, I must have made a choked up sound, or become visibly disheartened, because I vaguely remember hearing A asking what was wrong. It had sounded blurred, if sounds can even be blurred, like being underwater, or talking to someone through glass.

"D? Are you ok? Why are you crying? Was it something I said? Are you alright? It's okay..." Questions. Always with the questions with this guy. I didn't mind though. I just cried, I fell to my knees and I think I vaguely remember A hugging me. I don't know if I shrugged him off or not. I do remember I started bawling about dysphoria. Dysphoria goddam dysphoria. The curse itself. It was so familiar, yet impossible to describe. Nothing expressed it badly enough. It was like knowing how many people glance over you every day as you walk down the street. They instantly categorize you. A he. A she. They don't know. No one really knows. Because that's just it, if you haven't felt gender dysphoria, you will never know how it feels. Ever. It's why so many people don't believe in transgender and non-binary people. It's why they say it's just a phase. It's a choice to them. Why would anyone ever choose a life that gives them less rights, prejudice, discrimination, rejection from family and friends and gender dysphoria. Why would anyone actually want to wear a mask every single goddamm day just because everyone else is too scared of what's under it? Why would anyone choose to hate their body so much that self harm will often drift temptingly into the innocent mind, the perfect way to punish the body for being wrong, am I right? When there's a mirror in the room, carefully positioning yourself where you can't see the jeering stranger inside it. If you catch their eye, you might smash the mirror if you can't control yourself. And if people ask you if you are alright you've just got to begrudgingly say you are, because last time you told them who you actually are, not what they want you to be, they treated you like a child. They said what you think now won't be the same as the future. They said it was a phase.

"W-When I was growing up..." I'd recounted countless scenarios to A, confiding thing I'd always been scared to admit to myself. "I was thinking... If every day was gonna be like... If I had to wait till I was eighteen to escape and then be in debt from student loans and surgery... Maybe.." A was quiet, comforting and reassuring throughout. "I couldn't wait that long, I used to think all the time, I can't wait that long..." A lot of time passed, or maybe it wasn't long at all. I couldn't say, "I never... I mean I'm still here obviously... But that's not to say I didn't..." My friends had always supported me, I was free around them, but, "my parents... They loved me, and I loved them. That didn't change, but..."

When I was done A looked me dead like a hawk in the eyes, and held both of my hands gently. I'd never seen him so serious. "D, thank you for telling me this, all of it. I mean it, it was probably good for you to get this off your chest." I nodded, "it's not on my mind all the time but, I don't know. Every now and then, it all just comes rushing back and I-" A shook my hands slightly to regain my attention, "D, you are valid. You are supported, I support you. And not only that, I really like you actually, and I'm here for you if you need me." I almost started crying again, partially the good kind of crying this time though, even if what he was saying was cliché and robotic I'd heard it so many times. I wiped the tears away and mumbled, "I hate crying, it makes me feel like that shy little tearful girl I see in reflections," A responded comfortingly but forcefully, "everyone cries D, and if you ever need to cry you come to me, and you cry to me and I'll listen to whatever's upset you, you hear me?" I nodded and whimpered into his shoulder as he hugged me, firm as a grisly but soft as a teddy bear. If Goldilocks was real, she'd say the hug was just right.