Short hair, boy's shorts, man's shirt, boxer briefs, binder and squashed breasts. This is how I'm going out into the world this morning. Scared shitless. The restricted breathing from the binder doesn't help much. I'm trying not to fantasize about things that aren't going to happen, but just like the rest of the pain and discomfort in my life, it's hard to accept living like this for years to come. So I'm just doing my best to not think about the future. Except for right now. I just need to get it out, here goes: god, it would be so nice to have these things disappear, to have top surgery, to be able to just wear a shirt and not feel uncomfortable, not feel uneasy in my own skin. I'd maybe even give up my nipples for it. I mean, the sensation. As it is, I cover them with band-aids if I think they'll be touched through my shirt and bra, and using the binder usually ends with them being pulled or tugged to move my breasts into place. And I could even go shirtless at some point! But of course I'm crazy and it would be fucking hard to convince them I'm sane and normal enough to know what I want.

Okay, enough of that. Need to catch the bus. Goodbye for now. This could be a horrible day, I'm nervous as fuck. But at the same time, it could be okay. Not hoping, not worrying, just facing it.