Usseewa

u guys... u know that things can be screenshotted? web archived? google even saves stuff that have been deleted for a while on it's search results. IZZY, THE PHOTO. REMEMBER THE PHOTO. pov u move it to discord and start dm'ing there: oops, no mods! i probably wouldn't have to look that hard..

bro wth izzy u can't do that a dedicated stalker could probably look at publically-available info on all the houses in ur town, depening on how many, or make a bot to do it, and then determine which one is u.

yes i know what pms are, postmenst— nah jk. "if someone cares, they can find out a lot of things about me so what?" it's just...kinda concerning. to know that a stranger could know a lot about u. plus, they could get into conversation with you, make them trust you, and then

sis pls just do it either that or stop saying how much u knownyou should or whateverr blessing and a curse? also phew that u didn't express taken offense at that.

ok u should at least explore the possibility of being agender. ... this just feels like a trap sigh what i mean is, u know, not getting to comfortable with strangers ... i wish i could trust everyone.. was gonna edit this to make it sound less..yk...but looks like u already saw it so oh well.

but why bring them up then? oh, somehow i think it makes sense now. i maybe misread it before? are u basically saying uncertainty = authenticity/IMTRANS? idk if u remember what i said weeks back, but i had a rust ton of this. still do. too.much.thinking. hurts.my.brain. sigh its hard to think about things i wish i could help u more. like say stuff that eould help. but alas but why cant u be agender and ughhhhh why would it make u sad ehat do u want like idk

y do u say stuff like this... it's kidna scary so... huh??? tess ur not making sense i dont condescending is rhe eight word heirre do u mean confidenr kr smrhM ? ur not rhat bad also why u so againstbeing agender

Uhh faking what? ok srry but this is kinda confusing. ill try re-reading it. (no luck) I mean, like, I'm still wearing fem clothes rn (at least partially), and i still do when not in public. iskdkkdkekekwkwkw rhis is roo mcun to think abiutttr ughhhhh thxxx tho this is so existential, if that's the right word i hate not knowing. inhate being so uncertain that i dont even know what im feeling and what/who i am and what's true and what's real and whats what sbsbßhshhhshhßhsh33hehsshhddhhn.,,,...,.......dnñeñd4ndn mmm like theres so mahy layers of weird tangled confising brain thoughts and brain that idk what anything is anymore. and i feel so different from everyone else who's trans. eveyone seems so sure, or at least more sure than me, or has different/more signs, or whatever. c4tcc5cccc5ctvrvge3gg3dgv. d d. d d like help ehy am i so confused

because if they aren't, it means im probably not trans it means im fake and haven't actually found the truth and the genuine and real me

sometimes i either dont get feelings or i get thoughts instead, idk i suppose it is? or am i just like "ok, since i think im trans, trans people are likely to feel this specific way and do and say this, so i am too since im trans, and if i were t i wouldnt be." so basically waht i think/feel normally, sometimes. like "oh, here's where someone would normally be sad or excited or worried or happy or angry or whatever, so i acknowledge that and i am too, maybe." and also it's hard now to thing of my previous experiences, thoughts, and feelings. i can only think of what i feel now, and even that's hazy. i can only compare it to memories of what i know i felt, if that makes sense. i don't remember feeling things, but i remember knowing i did. or i know i remembered i did. i ... idk. idk what i feel sometimes. then sometimes i think i do, then just tell myself im feeling what i know im supposed to feel.

oh, uhm, guys how do u know if it's dysphoria. how do u know when u feeling it . what does it feel like? is it dysphoria when you realzie rhat u should be freling it? like when someone uses wrong pronouns snd you notice verh much. or when u notice hair on face. u notice ur voice. when u use men's restroom. ehen ur nails are unpainted . when u see body hair. when u...use the restroom in general iykyk. ehen u mirror-see urself. ehen ur tall. basically ehen u pay attention to everything and are very aware of everything that should, and maybe does, make u uncomfortable or dysphoriic. but how do u know if it actually is or if ur just noticing it?

Too Much Just a meal. Just a meal. Can I just eat a meal? Clearly not. I want to leave. Won’t they please stop. This time it’s too much. Too loud. Too much. Too much. I can’t. I can’t. Let me leave. Please just stop. Please get along. Please stop. Please. Please just be quiet. Please be nice. I beg you. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here. It’s too much. So much. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. Please just defuse. Please just calm down. Please. You’re making me feel things. I don’t want to. You’re making my heart race. When I wanted calm. You’re making my ears scream. When I wanted peace. You’re making me stressed. And I’m imprisoned. I must leave. Please. Quick. I must leave. This is too much. Too much. Too much. And this time I’m not numb—a blessing and a curse. Aftermath I sit here alone, away from that. I seek comfort in music, in writing. I seek physical comfort, wrapping myself in a soft warm fuzzy self-hug. Stomach unsated, body still tense, I seek comfort in the aftermath. Fine on the Outside I may seem fine—uncaring, even—on the outside. I’m not. I may look calm, even happy. I’m not. You cannot see what is going on inside my head. You cannot see the thoughts racing, The intense anxiety, The stress, The depression, All trapped behind an immovable mask of this cursed expression. It can’t escape, no matter what I want. It can leak—in the form of anger. But it cannot escape in expression. What is wrong with me, I hope to know soon. It’s fine—I’m fine. Everything’s fine. But it’s not. The mask remains. It permits numbness. It allows rage. It encourages numbness. It is numbness. I’m tired of feeling trapped behind it. I’m tired of such internal fruitless struggle at its confinement. I’m tired of freezing up or going numb. I’m tired of snapping when it’s too much. I’m tired of holding it in to the point where I can’t. I’m tired of the lump in my throat. I’m tired of doing nothing. Of being nothing. I’m grateful for this expression. This release, this sharing. This outlet. - Lily

yes (i dont read yuri but probably)