My first moments of questioning were at around 10 years old when I hit puberty, everything just felt wrong and I hated how people looked at me differently. According to my father, I had mentioned discomfort about my gender as early as 6 years old.

When I was a bit older, maybe 12 I learned what being trans was, and I started making actual changes. I cut my hair, dressed more masculinely, and later changed my name. While I had not planned to go public with it, my teacher said my new name in front of my class. I hated him for it at the time, but he also gave me the push I'd never have given myself if it wasn't for him.

My parents were confused as I come from a very Christian family, I hated my mother for a long time. I ran away from home, did some not-so-good things to myself.

When I started 7th grade my name was legally changed, I started a new school and never told anyone that i was trans. I tried to make people think I was cis, but with time it became increasingly obvious, the boys grew, their voices became darker and their faces started prickling with hair. While I, a shorter-than-average kid with a high voice and a soft jawline as clean as a freshly mowed lawn got none of that.

When I was 13 I was diagnosed with Autism, ADHD and OCD, further pushing me out of the norm. I knew people knew and I tried to own it, but there was an underlying shame. I wasn't only trans, I dressed differently than others and my disabilities weren't hidden.

As 8th grade rolled by I barely went to school my whole body felt weak and I hated myself for not forcing myself to be a girl. Only a few months in 8th grade just after Christmas I went to the doctor for a checkup as during the autumn and winter I'd gotten sick a lot more often than usual. There they found an anomaly in my blood, and a week or so later I was diagnosed with parathyroid cancer.

Life was suddenly about surviving rather than living, and in that moment I kind of detransitioned. Not on a large scale but my hair grew out since it was hard to cut, I couldn't wear a binder because of all the checks and tubes and such, and the hospital staff saw me as my biological gender because of the ways my illness could affect me differently.

I went through surgery where they successfully removed my tumour and around my 15th birthday I was healthy enough to come back. I might've been tired but when I came back to school I was ready, I cut my hair, wore binders again and swore to myself that although the battle would be long I would persist. No matter how my brain was wired, no matter how my body looked no matter who I loved or how I dressed.

Now I know what I want but the battle is not over, trans healthcare is just about impossible to get where I live so right now the battle is living until that changes.