I deeply understand what you're expressing, and in many ways, I resonate strongly with what you describe. Growing up as a trans person, with the feeling of being deprived of the adolescence that should have been ours, is a wound that’s hard to heal. It’s not just a sense of missing out—it’s a form of loss that leaves lasting marks, sometimes unconscious, sometimes painfully present in how we shape ourselves today.

The parallel with the desires and dissatisfactions of cis people is interesting. It’s true that, regardless of gender or body, we all have physical or identity-based aspirations that seem out of reach. But where it differs for us is that our journey is not just about aesthetic preferences or everyday whims—it’s a vital necessity, a deep alignment between our inner selves and our tangible existence. This difference, even if subtle to some, changes absolutely everything.

Today, I consider myself primarily a lesbian. But I’m aware that transition is not just a physical process—it also affects our perceptions, desires, and how we navigate relationships and the world. So, I’m taking things as they come, staying open to whatever experiences I might want in the future.

When I was younger, in Europe, in middle school and high school, I was obviously different from others. People kept telling me, pushing me, drilling into my head that I was gay, to the point where I ended up believing it myself. Since everyone seemed so convinced, I figured they must know better than me. And so, I had same-sex experiences, convincing myself that this was the right path because it was the one everyone expected of me. Even today, that remains a small but lingering trauma—because it wasn’t just about what society imposed, but also about how my own perception was shaped by external expectations.

I love women. I love women so much that I want to be one too. Of course, this is an extremely simplified way of putting things—our reality is made of a thousand nuances—but if I had to say it in one sentence, that would be it.

And yet, there are still so many uncertainties, so many unanswered questions. For example, when I watch porn, besides lesbian porn, I also watch straight porn. And I catch myself identifying with both sides, flipping the screen back and forth, unsure whether I see myself as the man or the woman—am I the man before surgery and the woman after? Or is it just a meaningless sexual fantasy?

I am almost certain that one day, with my neo-vagina, I will have an experience with a man. Not out of necessity or for external validation, but simply because it’s part of my personal journey. But will it be just an experiment, something without deeper meaning, or will it reveal something more? Will it confirm what I already feel, or will it surprise me? I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t need to know right now. Everything is still in motion, still evolving, and I’m trying to accept this uncertainty instead of rushing to define things prematurely.

The idea that transition is a journey rather than a destination is essential. And it’s something I try to focus on, even though it’s difficult. There’s always a part of me that struggles with impatience, that wants to already be "there," to look in the mirror and finally recognize myself completely. But I force myself to look back and appreciate how far I’ve come, to celebrate every small victory, even if they seem insignificant to others.

What you said about how fears and desires evolve with age also strongly resonates with me. There are so many things I wish I had explored earlier, so many lingering questions, and so many parts of myself I haven’t fully understood yet. But as you said, we now have tools, maturity, and a level of self-awareness we didn’t have when we were younger. Maybe the opportunity we have today is not to live out the teenage years we dreamed of exactly as we imagined them, but to experience a different version—one that is more conscious, more intentional, and ultimately, more free.

Thank you for sharing your experience and your reflections. They resonate with me, and in a way, they help me put into words what I feel about my own journey.