just little masculinized chest things

i used to think that i was agoraphobic, or like — agoraphobic because of depression and anxiety, or lazy, or SOMETHING; turns out it might have just been dysphoria the whole time? it’s so easy to just toss a t-shirt on and go outside without the bone-deep tiredness that would come over me every single time i had to put on a bra (or worse, take off the shirt i was wearing to put a bra on and then a new shirt)

the more i transition, the more i wonder — how much of my mental health problems were actually and genuinely depression and anxiety? how much of it was dysphoria the whole time? i’m not really serious when i say that T literally fixed all my problems, but — it… kind of did? every single one of my mental health problems has been alleviated so fucking much just by stabbing myself in the stomach once a week and paying a not insignificant amount of money to get my tits taken off.

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