Getting to Be a Person

Sometimes I refer to my pre-transition self as a ‘shallow husk’ or ‘not really a person’, among other disparaging terms. The reason for that is partly misplaced resentment at having had to be them, living in the closet, partly justified anger at how weirdly sexist I was back then, but mostly it’s the fact that well, it’s true.

Before I came out, I was the equivalent of oatmeal. I was… there. There wasn’t much to like or dislike about me (apart from the clinginess and misogyny), because there wasn’t much to me. I had things I liked, but that was about as deep as I went. I didn’t have meaningful connections with any other person, and I didn’t have much of a personality. Continue reading


Day 2

Alex sat at the bench, foot tapping idly as he looked around, waiting to spot the mysterious texter. He wondered if there was a point to it; he didn’t remember talking to whoever this was, so how was he going to recognize them?

Maybe it was the girl with the red scarf texting under the streetlight by the corner. She seemed nice. She had the look of either a student or scientist. She could be a marine biologist taking a vacation from the sun and sea of a research station by travelling to the city. Ha. He’d have to work that idea into a story. Continue reading



Eyes remaining closed, the young man settled back against the pillows, a contented smile forming on his face without him realising. Hmmmmmmm. He seemed to like bed today. That was nice; he’d make sure to take a napĀ in the afternoon.

But that would be later. He groaned a bit and stumbled out of bed. First he had to figure out who he was today. Continue reading