This is going to be... a lot.
This is one of those "staring at the ceiling at 3 AM and my brain won't shut up" posts. This is from my notes app dircectly. I don't mind comments or reposts, maybe I'll find that i'm not alone.
You know that common, throwaway joke girls make? The one that always gets a laugh? "Ugh, if I just had a dick for a day, I'd be unstoppable," or "I'd just... figure things out, you know?" It's always framed as this absurd, hilarious "what if."
But... what if it's not a joke?
What if you're sitting there, listening to them laugh, and you're just... silent. Because you're dead serious. What if you're feeling this profound, full-body frustration that this isn't a joke, it's just... a bad design. A missing part of your body.
No one ever says that part out loud. You can't. You're supposed to be happy with the factory settings. You're supposed to "love the skin you're in."
You know that other thing girls do? The "joking" friend-hump? Where one of you grabs the other from behind, usually when you're both laughing, and just... does the motion.
It's supposed to be stupid. A joke about, "Haha, We're a man and a woman."
But I remember this one time... my friend was in front of me, we I just did it. Grabbed her hips, pulled her back against me and did it as friends did but...
And the second I did it.
My brain just... clicked.
It wasn't a joke. I wasn't laughing. Everything in my head went quiet.
It was the position. Being the one behind. Being the one holding. Being the one... driving.
The motion itself... it wasn't even... sexual, not really. It was... logical. It was correct. It felt like my body was finally doing the one thing it was actually built to do. Like for half a second, the hardware finally matched the software. A girl with a missing part.
And then, of course, she twisted around laughing, and the moment just... shattered. It was over. It was just a "stupid joke" to her.
But I just stood there, my heart beating with comfort.
That's the feeling. That's the 'feature not available' error I'm always talking about.
My whole life, I've felt like I'm running on a correct operating system that just doesn't match "that" hardware. It's this constant, low-grade static under my skin. This feeling of being inefficient. Like I was given the wrong user manual, or just the wrong tools entirely.
And then, just to make it extra fun, my bisexuality gets tossed into the mix.
It’s like my brain is running two conflicting programs at once.
I'll see this girl. Just... incredible. Smart, funny, radiant, and so soft in a way I admire. And I get this deep, painful ache that I can't...experience her the way she likes. The way I like.
Then I'll see her with some guy. Just... some guy. And the feeling I get... it's not just, "Oh, I wish she was with me instead."
It's this complex, ugly, primal jealousy. I'm jealous of her, for being so effortlessly what she is. But I'm also profoundly, angrily jealous of him.
I'm jealous that he's the one who gets to... do that. Y'know...get people? The... function of it. The specific, biological role he gets to play. The part where he gets to provide in a way that is just... He has the feature. I don't. It's a "feature not available on your model" error, and it makes me want to scream. I don't want to be a man or have a mans frame but... I want to have that... but as me.
I'll even admit... sometimes I go looking for it.
Down those specific digital rabbit holes, you know the ones. The art. The... impossible bodies. Girls who are girls in every way I love, but... they have the feature. Tall, muscular, all the boys/girls at their disposal, and The 'hardware'.
And I'll just... stare. In the dark.
And the whole depraved time, my brain is doing this sick little flip. I become her for the only time possible.
I'm thinking, "I want to be her."
I want to be the one who can be strong and still... give like that. Who can provide in that... specific, physical way. It’s this deep, coiling ache in my gut, this... wrongness. Because I'm stuck here, just watching and wanting, when I should be the one who does. I should be the one in control. I should be the one with the... tools.
And then I just feel... pathetic. weaker.
Then, my brain short-circuits.
Because I'll look at a guy I'm into, and I'm simultaneously mad that he's not... softer. More fem. But I'm also intensely, bitterly jealous of his... strength.
The fact that he's probably taller. The fact that he's stronger. (Yes, we're back on the strength thing. I'm always back on the strength thing).
He's chosen to be the default. The "powerful" one. And I am stuck.
I am so, so tired of being the loser girl. I don't want to be protected. I want to be the one doing the protecting. I don't want to be the one who gets "taken care of." I want to be the one doing the taking care of. I want to be the one they lean on. I want to be the alpha to someones omega. I want to be seen as a man is. I want to win tournaments, look smarter. Be everthing someone isn't.I want to be the one who can literally lift them and carry them out of a problem. I want to be the one who can... provide. In every sense of the word.
The endless nights of thinking, crying, cutting, repeating. It's all so... tiring.
Maybe one day technology can help me feel complete.