I don’t know if that would ever be enough. But I wonder if it would be consolation to let my mother and father know that even though I “chose” to be this way, chose to be selfish, and began to change that I still haven’t been happy. I don’t know how it works. Freer, yes, but I still can’t say happy.

It’s lonely in here. Although this experience in Japan has taught me a lot about myself and given me so many growing points, it’s also made me realize that I don’t fit in. Obviously, the race part ignored, I just don’t look right.

Even among the foreign students, I think I look so disgusting. Everyone so far knows me as “she” and “her,” so basically as female, but I can’t help but assume and know everyone has been wondering and talking. It’s hard to decipher what is egotism, what is paranoia and what is true.

Somehow though, I manage to go out looking the way I do. It’s best to live out this way as long as I can because when I have to return to the US I don’t know what I’ll do.

I constantly feel ugly. I don’t feel enough. This is whiny bullshit but I’ve been holding all my whiny bullshit in. I can’t write it on my blog without ruining a good thing I have right now and getting all kinds of sympathy from people and I don’t want it right now.

I just want to be normal. This is speaking to the impossibility of it all, but no matter how many times I know it won’t come true, I still can’t get over the wish of, “I wish I had been born normal.” The pep talks of acceptance and hope for the future get me through a week or two at most, but the realist in me always reminds me, “but they don’t have to experience or worry about whether that’s true or not.”

I’m always reminded. When people stare. I can’t help but see it in their eyes that they’re questioning and laughing, poking their friends to look at the tranny. I feel horrible. I was talked about by people right in front of me. They didn’t think I’d know, but of course I wouldn’t show I did. “Is that a man?” And that’s all I ask myself in the mirror.

What am I? I don’t know. I wish I could satisfy all the people who question, whether belittling or curious, because I feel the way I do but I don’t know why, nor do I know what I really am in terms of DNA or psychology.

I don’t know how I became so fucked up. But people won’t let me forget it.