I stare at my worst nightmare, public restrooms.
I mess with my wrists, twisting my hand in a nervous motion.
I look at the signs, as they mock and taunt.
Men's or Women's?
My mum calls me into the Women's and I lower my head, dutifully walking into the place I don't feel that I belong.
I get sideways looks from the people at the gas station. The women stare at me as I walk to a stall and hurriedly close the door.
I sit down and hyperventilate, trying to keep my dysphoria at bay. But as usual, I fail.
It's hard to explain. It's like someone dropped a flaming one hundred pound weight in my gut, and it then begins to pulse and vibrate, sending horrible painful shock waves through me. I wish I wasn't like this.
It'd be easier for everyone.
