I posted this on fb a while back, thought I'd share it here.
A shiver runs down my spine as I stare out to the East over the brightening horizon beyond the breakers. It's chilly and I came unprepared for what was supposed to be a night of revelry. I find myself sitting alone on a stretch of beach, waiting for the sun to show itself and liven up my shivering limbs. Another hour at most, I think to myself. Will I make it to daybreak or should I just give up and go clamour into bed like the weasel I normally am? Fatigue is now complementing the chilly air, driving me to seek the solace of my blanket.
As I sat there on that lonely stretch of beach, I made a resolution unto myself. If I could make it to daybreak I would hand myself over to being trans-. No longer would I fight this ever-growing fire I had struggled to contain all my life. I would dress freely and let the sprightly person I had imprisoned behind that faceless facade out. I was lonely but tired. Appalled at (the permanence of) growing manhood but shivering. Wanting to be a heroic girl but too much of a wimpy boy. So my chickened skin turned to a chickened heart and I went to bed before sunrise resigned to my faceless life or so I thought...
In a parallel universe however I did not and the resolution stuck. The resolutions we make, whether conscious or not, always has a bearing on the outcome of our lives. Truth be told, whether I wimped out or not that night, the right decision was made, my beautiful family is proof of that. But...but, that sprightly young thing (I still carry in my heart), needs out every so often...