I'm in genuine despair over the fact that I'm likely not trans. My dysphoria is likely fake. I lack childhood signs. Imagining myself as a woman doesn't make me as happy as I'd like it to.
This probably is a maladaptive cope I adopted, because living as a man is genuine ropefuel, and I thought I could escape my immutable self

god i hate women as much as i hate being one. She cheated on me with the first pedophile that came her way. Its not even that i miss her, but rather that i have noone to tell "i love you" to whenever i feel like something bad might happen to me.
ahhh it feels like being thirteen-fourteen and lurking on here all over again