I envy the children and teenagers

who already know who they are.

I’m jealous of those

who transition in their twenties,

still able to enjoy their youth,

their lives not yet stolen from them.

As much as they give me hope,

the Transformation Thursday

and Throwback Tuesday

social media posts

torture me.

Pictures of bearded men

now living as beautiful women.

And I just want so badly

to get to that part of my life,

or even just to know

for certain

that it’s coming.

I didn’t know I was trans

at 5 or 12 or 18,

more like 30.

And it’s been

a beautiful, scary journey.

But I want to be called

by my real name now,

my real pronouns.

I want to be more

than the illusion

I let people

project onto me.

I’m not great at escapes,

though,

plotting my way

out of this life

and into the next one.

And the timeline keeps getting

pushed back,

sentenced to a male life

for longer and longer.

I envy those

who identify as one gender,

not having to switch

or live with duality.

I’m so tired of only feeling

and looking like myself

on the odd night

or weekend.

I’m jealous of those older than me

by a decade or more

who are living

as their authentic selves,

who have already crawled through hell

to get there,

who have already lost

partners, homes, friends, family, careers

and the worst is over.

While I still have all of that

to face.

I don’t want to wait

until my fifties

or sixties

for my life to begin

when my body already feels

like it’s wearing out now.

I’m tired of waiting for

everyone to die

so I can live my truth.

I try to hold onto

the hope

and the patience

that every trans woman needs

to survive in this world.