I am an “immigrant”. The kind that you know by looking at. I haven’t been stopped by the police in years, but I’d hate to not have ID on me in case somebody decides they wanna have a power trip or be a man of duty.

By the way, I’m not in the US.

You have to move on. But sometimes you have to get even and move on.

I second that, but one of my wishes is to be able to go out without any bag and with nothing in my pockets. Especially with no ID.

I realized this only about two years ago. In my early thirties. And I can’t shake it off. Even with the help of therapy.

I’d say they do matter in any context. But it depends whose point of view we take.

It matters if something happens with your conscious decision or just as a side effect. It’s a matter of moral agency.

It’s like that Michael Scott meme where his manager is shaking his hand.

Do unto others…

Yes but no. Motives matter.

Didn’t Americans really say no expensive gas?

Sometimes I say things that people misinterpret as me knowing very much. It’s always so damn frustrating.

Like if he didn’t sign every tweet, no one would know it was this orange piece of shit.

“Homeland” and “abroad” are very fluid in the American mind. So you can’t really tell when they are invading and when they are defending. Trust them, though. They know better!

I appreciate it.

I can relate to the mirror part. There is not much I feel when I look at myself in the mirror. If not too much nothing.

Of course I will never know some of the physical and emotional pains women go through, but given the choice, I think I’d choose to be a woman. Maybe that’s boredom with male-ness and and also an attempt at escaping the responsibilities it usually dumps on a man, but I don’t think I’d want to be a woman for the privilege of looking pretty or wearing pretty stuff.

If I had years ago left the country where I am, maybe I could.

But then again, maybe I wouldn’t even think this way about gender had I not had some particular anxieties and problems.

I love that.

I am sure of one thing. If I didn’t have people who rely on me (not dependents like wife and kids, never even had a girlfriend), I would have gone all the way. Maybe it’d ultimately be for the wrong reasons, but let it. If it made me happy, why not.

Thank you.

I’m sorry you have to experience that as well. And glad you have people you can trust.

Some of what you said here gives me this idea: maybe I am trans, and the proof of that is how far I have been able to imagine being a woman. Not simply a girl who is trying makeup to make herself feel better, but a woman in a life of humanity.

Or maybe I am such a good empath, or at a delusionally good one, that I think I can feel what it’s like to be a woman.

I can at least be happy that I have felt some beautiful feelings. That I think I know what it’s like to be a woman. Even if they ultimately have to be repressed.

I appreciate you, everyone, who takes the time to talk to people this supportively.

I agree, but in a “stoic” way.

Some things can’t be, even if only because we may not have predicted that we would want them.

For practical purposes, I will go with what another commenter said. I had thought of it myself. It may as well be true. Idealization of the feminine, anxiety, low self-esteem, a deterioration of a sense of self.

Yes, I would have loved to try a whole lot of things. Even if to quench a curiosity, even if to just play. But I know that if I keep digging, and I’d have to dig alone, I will be more and more alone and lonely. Even if there is something very real buried right there.

This. I think about this possibility as well. In fact, this might be it.

However, I wanna like me rather than wanting people to like me. And maybe it’s the idealization of the feminine.

I very much agree. But, on the other hand, my ability to find things out and decide things has deteriorated over time, drastically so in the past few years.

If I could, I would happily and unapologetically try experiencing stuff as long as I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else. But as things stand, that’s a no go.

I would, but there’s not much room. So if any attempt, however private, does indeed lead to stronger and more real urges to explore further, I will only have intensified my sense of loss.

I still remember the feeling and scent of the lipstick I tried a bunch of times. The mascara.

I see myself doomed to go the path I’m already thrown in. And since deeper thoughts about being a girl are rather new, I can more easily chalk it up to the anxiety and pressure of the last few years of my life. Maybe wanting to be a girl is just a way to escape my reality, my anxieties, or even some of my responsibilities. I can’t even be 100% sure about that, but I guess that’s the more pragmatic way of looking at it.