“God, I always feel so out of place every time I come here…” I moan as I step into the vast dance studio, surrounded by my friends.

“I really hope that’s NOT because you feel uncomfortable wearing THAT!” Lauren teases, making me giggle as I stare down at the short-sleeved black leotard and baby pink tights that are covering my body.

“Hell no!” I reply, making my friends giggle and cheer. “It’s just- you know? You girls are all so good at ballet, and I’m still just a beginner… Not to mention the fact that everyone here is, like, famous!”

So many things have changed over the last two years and a bit. The biggest change, to be honest, has been me, inside and out.

At that time, I was just about to graduate from high school. I did all right, I guess, mostly As and Bs. I got along with others for the most part, but I never really got close to anyone because I had a deep, dark secret I didn't want to tell anyone: I wished that I had been born female.

I stare at the phallus and its package between my legs. It’s tiny and weird. It doesn’t belong between a girl’s legs, yet it’s there. I poke and prod at it. Like it was about to explode.

I take a knife and gently stab the phallus’s package just enough to cause some pain. I stop before the knife breaks the skin. I hate pain as much as I hate my disgusting testosterone balls. I wish I didn’t feel pain. I wish I could just be numb. I also wish I had a scalpel. I could give myself an orchidectomy.

Was I at risk of losing everything?

Had I gained nothing after winning my fight against the Gun Queen?

Just what had I achieved? What had I earned for myself?

As my questioning thoughts slowly drifted through my mind, the empty, hollow feeling in my chest returned, making it hard to breathe as though my lungs were being distended by the vacuum within me.

I swallowed hard a few times, and tried to regain control of my breathing.