I’ve never really hated myself, you know? Never wanted to put myself down because of my appearance, my actions, or my beliefs. Didn’t want to be depressed. Or lonely. Or disgusted. Didn’t want to hate myself.


But I’ve never felt whole.


And I hadn’t realized why until recently. It’s probably taken me so long to understand because it’s hard to really look at yourself. Difficult to finally see the person that you are. Maybe because of harsh past experiences, or too many days looking outward instead of in. Maybe it’s because you didn’t want to look; didn’t want to see what lay within. For me, I think it was that I simply never thought of it. It never held any importance until it was too big to ignore.


Now here it is. The idea of me that I’ve found. While I’m still not entirely sure it’s the correct picture of me, it’s all I can see right now. And here I go. My confession of what I believe to be the true me: I am both a woman and a man.

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That was nice to get off of my chest.

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Anyways, some of you may be confused as to what I mean by that statement. I’m not saying I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body or vice versa. I’m not confused as to my gender or sexuality. I feel as if I am simply both man and woman.


I am happy with the woman’s body I am in, but at times I long to stand taller. I wish my shoulders were broader, my chest flatter, my jaw more pronounced. But after a while, I am content with my normal curves and soft edges. Those feelings are not born out of confusion. They just are.


I am a woman. I am a man. I am me.


Thank you for listening.