Trans*

It was the end of seventh grade when I realized who I was. Since the beginning, I knew something was wrong. I knew I wasn't myself in whole. But once I started researching more on the trans* community, I knew what I was. And that wasn't a girl. When I was in fourth grade, I had this 'tomboy phase' and even before then, I wasn't all that girly. When I got into sixth grade, I finally had to get into the girly stereotypes. If I didn't, I would have been going through hell. In seventh grade, I tried my hardest to push away the boy in me. I wore skirts and dresses. I wore tank tops and necklaces. I obsessed over indie singers and even 'dated' a few guys. But I still knew something was wrong.

I started watching a few trans* Youtubers, even though at the time, I thought all I was, was a straight white girl. When I finally admitted to myself I was at least experiencing dysphoria, I kept it a secret. I wanted desperately to tell my close friend, Anthony, about it, because he himself was gay, and knew a lot about things about sexualities, and I had a feeling that he might know something of it. But I never found the time to. I found myself obsessed with the hairstyle and clothes that boys usually wear, and wishing that I wasn't restricted to this world of female. I wanted to be able to dress and act the way that I wanted, without being called a 'dyke' or a 'butch'.

Simply put, I was scared to come out, even to having gender dysphoria. I wasn't exactly the type of person you would think to be trans*. I wore a lot of skinny jeans, and obsessed over a lot of band members. Although in sixth grade, Anthony was talking about cross-dressing (which he did every-so-often) and said I should join him in cross-dressing, although I already did half the time. I suppose black skinny jeans and black band tees were kind of cross-dress-y.

But, I wasn't exactly comfortable deciding my fate in seventh grade, especially if I ever wanted to start T. It was a difficult feeling, to know that the gender you are, isn't the gender you're supposed to be. It was aggravating. I eventually told Anthony, who was completely accepting of it. In eighth grade, I cut my hair short-ish, and started dressing less girly. That was when I came out as pansexual. My parents didn't mind, and everything went on as normal.

In freshman year, I came out as trans*. My parents were a bit skeptical at first, thinking I was a bit too young to be trans*, although to me 15 was a fine number. Whatever they thought of it, I didn't care. I got my own job, and made my own money to buy my own things, like binders and packers. I cut my own hair, and bought my own clothes, as my parents were no longer accepting nor were they on board with the whole 'not a girl' thing.

And I tried not to care. But without the acceptance and love of my parents? Shit was difficult.

A/N Um, hi. I'm new to this website, so I'm trying to figure everything out. This story is based off the gender dysphoria I'm feeling, and how I see it working out in the future.