If I could answer that I would be comfortable in my own skin. For as long back as I can remember I wasn’t. My first memory that I can recall was feeling that I didn’t feel right. It’s hard to explain just knowing you shouldn’t have what you do down there, wanting to feel comfortable in your skin but not and being full of anger and a rage that I cannot put into words. My mind constantly clouded with wanting to be myself and not really being able to focus on a great deal else. Depression and suicidal thoughts and praying every night that you will wake up a woman. But of course that never happens so you feel alone and desperate, cut off from society and like no one understands you. You can’t tell your friends you can’t tell your family so you live with this thing over your head. You either ignore it which is ok for a while but then hits you even harder or you find it in yourself to talk to someone and move on. It’s hard it’s really, really hard and even then we live with possible discrimination, the possibility we may be attacked or murdered for being ourselves. It’s not an easy life to lead. Just simply to be comfortable in our own skin, to be happy. Which is something I have never been able to take for granted.