Everyone is.

...I believe. It's a theory.

I don't think I have the lived experience to really say I belong in an LGBTQ+ space, which is maybe hypocritical, or perhaps needless denial, but I've been cis and straight too long to even comprehend an iota of the struggle. But a year of questioning what gender means, what the roles really are, what is expected of me, what I fail to be in others' eyes, what I want to be in my own, has all fed a feedback loop resulting in probably the most normal answer ever.

I don't really want to meet someone else's ideations. I don't even really know what my ideations fit in others' eyes. But I'd rather be me. I'd rather be who I am for sure.

I'm working on it, but that's where I am with that for now.

Everyone is.

...I think. I'm told.

Contending with the many ways I don't fit when fitted to a standard set for me long before I could think was a much needed journey in self-reflection. Realizing some things just won't work unless it works with me eased quite a bit of my frustrations, but also bore its own set as I continue (still) to deny it.

I still spiral into an anxiety and stress I never allow others to really see, over the most immaterial problems, all while they tell me I'm the most calm and collected person they know. But I'll accept a few mental vices like this, as long as I know what they're made of.

Everyone does.

...I hope. I tell myself.

It's a common story. Before any manner of expression leaves my head, it has to go through so many walls just to make it into existence. I have to ask myself, did I do this right? Did I use the right words? Is this good, will people like this, am I making a mistake do I have the wrong informationis there even a pointam I wastingeveryone's time willanyone even look wouldn't it be easier⠀⠀to⠀⠀just⠀⠀not ⠀⠀⠀do it at all?

And all of it stems from the simple fact that I am my own worst nightmare: someone who will ask all these questions of anyone else trying to do the same thing. And I always have been. The one to say something is not enough, or not relevant, or could be better, or doesn't fit my framework of what is good and right.

And I haven't reached the point I can really say I'm absolved of any of that. But I can at least say that shame from within is immaterial. It's an ouroboros that eats itself before it ever exists. To put it another way: Nobody cares. And neither should I. I think that's at least a good first step to being a little more real.