Ever since I was little, I knew something was wrong. I was different. I didn’t know exactly why, but I knew something was up. I never liked wearing dresses, tights, or anything, really, that my mom wanted me to wear. I felt pressured to play with girl toys, as my sisters did, but I got bored too easily. I treasured a toy car set and play mat I had at home, and that would keep me busy for hours. My Dad gave me a model care when I was little, and I have had it ever since. Things like these were who I was, and I knew it.
As I got older, I definitely knew I was different. I came out as being gay my sophomore year, but that just wasn’t it. I knew it went further, though I didn’t want to accept it. I tried figuring things out. I thought about the fact that I have always gotten along with and related to my male teachers more than my female teachers. I thought about how I like girls, and how I love to wear button-up shirts, loose sweatpants, and loose jeans. By junior year, I knew what was up. I knew I was (and am) transgender. My name was (and is) Brian, and I hated it. I hated the thought of not being in the right body, I hated the thought of society not accepting me. I tried shoving my intuition away, but it didn’t work. I just could not do it.
Senior year, I decided I had to come out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and it was my only choice. I told my parents, who were shocked at first, and my friend who thankfully accepted it. I am not fully out, but I hope I will be soon, as I really need and want to show society who I really am.