one life, one body. one existence.
And this is what I get. Born wrong, deformed, mutilated. Everything forever wrong. An outsider. Stuck in pain.
People have told me I’m grieving and I have to accept this, I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. About what should have been. What never can be.
And that’s it, isn’t it. I get one chance at this and this is what I get. I wish I’d been aborted and someone else got to live.
I really feel you on that last paragraph. When you’re in the midst of it breaking out of that sort of negative rumination seems impossible. I don’t think there was just one specific thing that made it possible for me, but I know meeting and making friends with other trans people was immensely healing and helpful. I hope you are able to find that better social circle, and that it’s a healing thing for you too.