When you are too feminine to fit in with men, but too masculine to fit in among women.
A personal artpiece exploring the internal feelings of a person with PTSD. Body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria, hating life as a woman and wanting to be something else- but not a male atleast in the traditional sense... Just... Not /that/... and how all of that shapes your view of yourself. The only solution given by the world is to remove pieces of your body, but that feels so miserable and unappealing and downright scary. You choose to not do that, but every once in a while, you feel so disfigured and wrong. You /know/ you feel so imprisoned inside yourself because of your past. Your body was disrespected and vandalized. Of course you no longer want to inhabit it. And you're telling me I have to live on?! Reality has some audacity, the thought is so maddening it makes me want to rip all my hair out. But then you pick yourself up and you attempt to build your own place to feel secure, sometimes it means change, sometimes it means to withdraw from people, learning to be there for yourself. /You/(plural) end up an /inseparable pair/, yet remain physically alone. How do you reclaim yourself when PTSD took over your entire life and seemingly your body as well? Remains a forever question. Some days you are so happy to be a woman, other days you hate it and would rather die. Healing is not linear. Androgyny seems to be the solution on bad days. The comfort of being /nothing, null, neither/, and escaping this miserable endless cycle of being perceived in disgusting ways, welcomes you with a warm embrace.