Unfinished trans story

She tried not to watch the girl from across the room. It was hard not to notice her short green and blue hair from across the room. She had always liked short hair on women.

She tried to push down her impulses. She was like 99% that Jess was into girls but not at all sure that she counted as one to Jess. Besides, she still wasn’t sure what her own sexual orientation was. Maybe she was just mistaking aesthetic appreciation or wanting to be friends with someone.

Things were all mixed up in her mind anyway. She didn’t think she was into guys (for the most part anyway, they probably had to only kind of be guys for her to be interested), but sometimes she got *ahem* aroused when it seemed like someone was into her. Not that anyone ever actually turned out to be into her. But that might just be liking the idea that someone could be attracted to her.

Which clearly wasn’t the case.

She was pretty good evidence that “passable” and attractive were hardly the same thing. Maybe she just needed to “try harder.” Wear makeup and shit. Bleh.

She suddenly realized that she had just been standing there silently like a weirdo for way too long. She hoped Jess hadn’t seen it.

She took a sip from her drink and winced. For some reason wine always made her teeth hurt.

At this point she was kind of regretting coming to this party.

Her “friend” (in quotes, very important) had basically ditched her to go talk to other people there, cooler and more normal people, people who she probably liked more because they weren’t—

She tried to repress those negative thoughts. She felt like she was too negative and just generally a downer and it drove people off. She was trying to get better about it. Key word: “trying”.

She had a sudden, strong desire to kill herself so she would just stop bothering people and not have to worry about what other people think. Although honestly, they’d probably just talk shit about her after she was dead.

“We all had no idea she was having these problems. Why didn’t she just reach out.”

“Oh, they were trans? Oh ok well then obviously this was pretty likely.”

“He was such a promising young man.”

Etc., etc.

She tapped her friend on the shoulder. Then again several more times when he didn’t seem to notice.

Fuck it. She stepped out the door. She fished her phone out of her pocket and sent him a short message.

It was suddenly, bitterly cold outside, even though it had been warm earlier that day. She wrapped her arms around herself and silently cursed herself for not planning better and bringing a jacket.

She checked her phone and he still hadn’t seen her message. Whatever. At least it wouldn’t seem like she had just disappeared like a weirdo.

It was only outside, alone in the basically empty street, that she realized how freaked out she had been in that room full of people. It’s not like it was even that crowded. She had some real fuckin’ problems.