Out of everything about being trans that sucks, the lost years are always the worst. The friends you lose as puberty tears you apart, the lovers who you couldn’t reach out to, and just all the experiences you wanted to have growing up that you just don’t get a second shot at when you become an adult.
You realize how little time there was for everything, and see the timer clicking away at your current situation and you still can’t do most of the things you want to do, and it hurts so much more than before because even though you now know who you are the frustration with knowing what possibilities lie out there and knowing they’re just out of reach will cut away at you.
I wanted to be a boyscout, wanted to go into the woods and earn badges for starting fires and shit, wanted to make a Friday the Thirteenth joke at camp since I was born on the day. For fucks sakes, I could have earned the nickname Jason and wore hokey masks every Halloween. I wanted to take karate, and I could have earned a belt to wear like a headband during my hardcore Naruto phase. My life wouldn’t be perfect, but at least I’d be happy.
Instead though, I’m sitting here dreaming of a life I never got still waiting for the day for my life to fucking start.