CHAPTER TWO
Moments that Pine and Malisa Chat

As usual, there was no real sense of who or even what the person was at first. I hadn't really been paying attention to anything Pine said in the main room. Since curiosity more than anything else spurred my accepting their invite, I figured on laying down the law early.

Opening the door to the separate channel Pine set up, I played my opening to the amorphous being waiting patiently on a sofa by a coffee table in front of me. "I don't really like people DCC chatting me unless I know them."

"Okay, sorry." The genderless being drawn back slightly. Sex Channels weren't always friendly, and sometimes it was a good idea to bolt quickly rather than involve yourself in an abusive conversation. His quick backing down helped let me know Pine wasn't searching for someone to dominate. "But don't worry about it. I'm a little lonely tonight anyway."

Pine responded to my olive branch by grinning at me. "So, how do you look today? I guess beautiful..."

"I look like normal... Oh!" I said, and then realising that it sounded like I was telling Pine that, of course, I'm always gorgeous, I felt my online construct blushing.

"I don't think you need to blush; there's nothing wrong in being beautiful."

"I never said I was beautiful... I just meant..."

Pine grinned again. "I know." There was a pause as Pine seemed to be searching for something to say, and finally, Pine decided to begin defining himself. "I'm Daniel, Winc. What's your name?"

The being on the sofa now took on a more masculine posture and form. He had given me his (presumably) real name and expected the same from me. "Wrong, bucko," I murmured to myself and made a flat response. "Winc." Not Mattie, certainly not Malisa and never Matthew.

"Okay, Winc." He said, seeming to consider the matter, "That's a lovely name; I like it. Unique, probably as special as you."

"Thanks, you're a real sweet talker." I smiled at the compliment and upped the ante. "But that means you have something planned." The dance had started.

"Just saying what's on my mind. And no, I don't. How old are you?" He asked.

The question was a bit odd and threw me off my pace. Was he a cop trolling for paedophiles? I had heard of them doing that in the sex channels. "Between 18 and 15." Damn fingers. "Oops, sorry, 25." I giggled. He smiled at my flux. Getting back to the dance, I invited him to speed up the tempo by opening the top few buttons of my blouse and commenting, "My, but it's bloody hot in here."

It struck me then that I'd automatically identified myself as a female in doing so. Yes, I was in girl mode, and I was playing him… However, I also felt something. It wasn't like I was just playing the girl; I felt it raging through my being again. It's hard to explain. Hard to get into words. It felt like Malisa had come alive again. I knew that from Pine's viewpoint, the sexless character I'd wanted to project had just changed. I was no longer a middle gender, a genderless being keeping this all abstract; I was the female gender all over again. This didn't feel right for me to be living this role again, but it did feel natural.

Pine glanced at me perhaps a little too appreciatively. "Maybe I need to warm up because up here in Vancouver, Canada, it's a little cold." I could almost see him rubbing his arms to warm himself. "Where are you?" He asked.

"I'm in New Zealand," I said, hoping Daniel wasn't going to use such an old line.

"I wish you were here instead of there."

He used it. "Oh really," I said, "And you have only just met me," I think he could feel my temperature drop a degree, but his honestly fumbling recovery was so cute I decided to let him off the hook.

He gave me a sheepish grin and tried again. "You're way cuter than I thought; I bet you have a very nice smile."

Flattery, and about one aspect that doesn't make a sexual response necessary. "I have been told so," I said, feeling a bit warmer towards Daniel. "But I don't think I'm cute, so to speak," I added coyly.

Daniel rallied and told me he dreamed of kissing my "beautiful" lips. That evoked me to give a slightly lewd response, and he took it as the consent he really wanted. I could feel soft female flesh covering my genderless figure as Pine started to dress me (my construct/Winc) with his eyes. While I was revelling in the attention at once, the intellectual part of my mind cautioned that I wasn't being responsible. I compromised with a mixed message.

"See, you are after just one thing, aren't you." My intellectual side said, "Good, play it cool," while Malisa enjoyed the attention and tease could attract.

"No, of course not," Daniel protested, "I think you're a neat person. I was lurking during your other conversation. I was drawn to you. Some type of connection here I have never felt before." I felt his longing gaze travel down my body, remaking me in the form he saw me as.

My blouse filled out as Daniel hung a young girl's breasts on me. Neither large nor small, but Malisa found their weight proper and comfortable. Daniel had unfortunately neglected to provide a bra, and against my previously well-fitted blouse, my nipples performed a semaphoric salute, which Daniel couldn't help but notice. To my surprise, however, instead of continuing, he grew embarrassed.

I could feel his fear of going further. Finally, Daniel stood up and asked. "Winc, can you come a little closer?"

I stepped a little closer into the light, so to speak. Still, no need to let him feel too comfy yet. I like being appropriately wooed. "Don't do anything, I bite." I giggled.

"I just wanted to see what the most beautiful woman in the world looks like." I felt him about to begin shaping me again, but he stopped. "Or at least imagine it; tell me what you look like, if you are okay, please?"

This was genuine flattery; Daniel was giving me the chance to continue independently. This wasn't what others typically did. They would tell you what they imagined, fit you into their ideal figure, and make you fit into the wants of their sexual needs. Instead, Daniel was fulfilling my fantasy as well as his.

I (Winc) brushed my short brunette hair back from my face, revealing sea-green eyes. I grinned and stopped there. As much as I might have wanted to, part of me was afraid of further acknowledging my gender. I mean, he had already made me female in his eyes, but something made me feel like I was breaking my own vow of being genderless if I continued to expand as I wished.

Daniel considered, "Mmm... Brunette hair... that looks wonderful with that smile of yours.

He'd surprised me again. Numerous guys want Blonde, Redheads, or pure Black hair. They seem to think of those of us with brown hair as plain. I almost wanted to blush again as I said, "Thanks."

You've probably noticed by now that I haven't said a thing to define Daniel. I didn't want to. So far, he'd acted in a manner that every man I've really wanted should have performed.

I was revelling in just enjoying his polite maleness. I mean, come on, I knew that he was after one thing, and to be honest, I wanted something as well. After all, TVSex channel was about sex with Trans people. Yeah, it was not really well named, being that most people thought TV was only for Transvestite, and most of my friends on there were Transsexual. But, naming aside, its primary focus was sex with those born as male and who wanted to interact with others as female.

As I described myself to him, my online persona shifted and morphed into the shape of an attractive but almost homely feminine figure.

My full breasts raised as Daniel stepped in close, raising his warm hands to cup my cheek, tilting my head up, so he could look into my eyes. His other hand brushed gently through my hair.

"I never thought a girl could be this beautiful." He breathed. "Winc, I want you."

My hands were resting on his chest. I really was getting warmer now. Those hands of mine opened my blouse completely by undoing the final three buttons. Daniel drew my face towards him, and we kissed.

When we broke for air, Daniel said, "This time, I want to taste your skin." and his lips touched mine again, then slowly moved to the left, still kissing. His tongue darted out quickly each time until he reached my ears. He then sucked gently on my lobe and explored each of my ears with his delightful tongue while whispering, "I want you." Daniel nuzzled my hair then.

By now, I was really getting caught up in this. "Uhmmmm... nice." I groaned into his ear. I joined his next kiss willingly and embraced him, running my hands lightly down Daniel's back. He began running his kisses down my neck, following his hands, which were following the contour of my shoulders under the blouse, pushing it off, and making their way to my breasts.

As my hands reached the base of Daniel's spine, he went down, his hands running grippingly down my back as his mouth and tongue played across my nipples. Caressing the back of Daniel's head, I kissed his strong neck and enjoyed the tight crinkled feeling of my aureoles.

"I can feel your firm ass," Daniel said, letting me know just how far his hands had travelled. I wondered idly if that was a breeze I felt down there. "Mmmm... Winc?"

"Yes?" I groaned.

"You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met."

The blush blooming over me was caused as much by Malisa as by my intellect calling foul. I'm only acting... right? I pulled Daniel away and looked down at him through Winc's eyes. "Stop it. How do you know that? You don't even know if I am a girl." Hell, the last few weeks have been spent denying that very fact. What am I doing here?

I can't place why I suddenly felt so cold and standoffish. I had been playing the girl; hell, I had even skinned myself in this body of femininity. And yet, when he told me I was the most wonderful girl, a usual throw away statement of horny guys, I felt a sudden ping of anger and guilt. I wasn't this fantasy I had built; I was... a failure! I was born in the wrong body, and how dare he try and make me feel like I really wished I was in real life!

"I don't care," Daniel said, raising up to look me in the eye. "You are a girl to me, and I've known you for less than a couple of minutes. I mean it," He began caressing my bottom again. "I consider you a more real girl than anyone I've met."

"A real girl?"

"Yes. I consider you a girl... Don't you?"

"God, I wish I did," I stated as I felt Daniel hugging me tightly. "It isn't that easy for me. I feel I am this person you state I am, but then reality keeps slapping me across the face and reminding me that the moment I look away from this, I am instead an... aberration."

"I wish I could hug you for real," Daniel said. "I don't think of you as anything other than the person you showed yourself as in the main channel and what you described yourself as in here."

I wanted to type something back, argue with him some more. It was almost as if I wanted him to hate me, to consider me to be the failure I kept telling myself I was, but he interrupted my train of thought.

"I've never had such a connection. Have you ever felt such a strong connection with someone since the moment you met?"

I'm not a cyber-virgin, But... "No." Was that true? I had had some good sessions before. "Not really." I mean, there was that one... "Yes." But was it that good? I became confused. "I can't remember, really."

"I feel that you're the most beautiful person I've ever met" Our constructs come together again. Simply holding and fondling each other. Daniel realised he was sitting with a topless woman, totally clothed. He shifted, and I helped him with his pullover and tee-shirt. As the shirt cleared his head, I leaned forward and let Daniel kiss me again. A tender and slow kiss. Most of the action is described in gentle detail.

"You're so wonderful and caring," I said and broke character for just a moment. "The way you type is so wonderful."

"It's because I feel something that's making me care," Daniel said. "Winc, I wish I could be with you."

I ran my hands down Daniel's chest, lightly touching his nipples. He returned the favour. "Ummm, I haven't felt this hot in a long time," I said, as Daniel once again applied his lips and tongue to my full and engorged breasts.

He looked up at me and replied, "I've never felt this hot for someone, ever."

"Really?" I said incredulously. He was beginning to sound like this wasn't just play.

A slow and utterly fantastic smile came upon his face as I gazed into his face. "Relax, honey, I love..." the last word was lost in the best cyber-kiss I ever experienced. Slowly, he turned Winc around and got down on his knees to work my skirt off.

My skirt!? I started to panic. I wanted to tease and flirt and maybe have a little fun. "Are you doing this just because you're horny?" I needed him to say something crude and break my mood. Instead, he said something so sweet, it pushed me even harder than a simple goof would have to close this down quickly.

"I don't think so... Oh, Winc you are so... This is the most beautiful piece of art I've ever seen."

I reached down through Winc and guided Daniel up to face me. I wanted to cool him off, but what came out of Winc's/my/Malisa's mouth was, "I think I'm getting to like you." And finally, a hint of control. "However, I will have to leave shortly."

This was where the cybersex portion of the session ended. Nothing happened (in real life and just a little fondling in the chat room), but somehow a feeling of being alive had taken over my whole body. I was Malisa was more, and deep inside, that was good, but my mind was now confused and scared. I thought I'd pushed these feelings away. I had thought I was cured of the power of gender. I thought I was a Hir, ze, it.

Daniel tried to kiss me again, but I placed my hand over his mouth. "Don't ask why, but I do have to go," I said, but the look of hurt in his eyes asked every question I wanted to avoid answering.

"Will I ever talk to you again?" Daniel asked.

What the hell, "Would you like to e-mail me?" I asked just as he asked the same of me. I giggled at the simultaneous post.

"Yes. Neat... I do want to e-mail you." He said. God, why was he so anxious?

I tried a more serious approach. Maybe Daniel was just acting and didn't recognise how he was getting under my skin to the girl inside. "Really, Daniel, why do you really want to talk to me again?" The confusion in his reply both disturbed and calmed me. A most unsettling feeling.

"I feel something," He started, "it's not just lust, and I mean that. Something is happening here that I haven't felt before. You're different from the others on IRC."

"Okay," I/Winc smiled, almost despite me, "Give me your address, Hon." A sudden burst of curiosity hit, and I asked, "What do you do for a living?"

"I study"

"Really? what?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Ditto." This was the first time he'd evaded anything I said. Daniel had confirmed he was in school but not what he was studying. Between that, some of his speech patterns, and his next question, I should have twigged as to why.

Instead, I was just a little surprised when he asked, "How old are you? If you tell me, I'll tell you, and I promise I won't lie." his smile was now like that of a child, asking a special favour.

"There's that age thing." I admonished with a giggle. I'd already marked that territory as taboo and saw no reason to back down now.

"Yeah," Daniel said, almost petulantly. "I'm sorry. I won't ask."

"Look," I said, taking his hand to sit on the sofa. "I don't need to know yours. The less I know, the better, for now."

"Are you certain? I want to get to know you." Daniel's grip tightened, and I knew I'd let him have his chance. A fair one, but he would have to wait for me.

The smile on my/Winc's face was as genuine as one could get under the circumstances. Two digital puppets, representing their controllers, are on opposite ends of the world. "You will in time... If you want time."

"I want the time," Daniel said earnestly. "I'm willing to wait if that's what it takes..." He paused for a moment as he obviously thought of a reason I was being so secretive.

"Are you involved with someone right now?"

"No." It hurt to admit it, but if some people had trouble dealing with my problem before, my current gender-less stand had left me questioning how I was to relate. My defaulting into girl mode during this chat proved that... Didn't it? Daniel was treating me like a girlfriend, and I wasn't just letting him; I reinforced the notion by my own actions. How far was I going to let this go before I stopped it!?

"Okay," He said, accepting the answer, but the curtness of the reply must have shaken him. "You still want my e-mail address?"

"Um..." I could have told him no and returned to my gender-less limbo again, but he'd been so sweet so far. Making me feel so good/scared/ alive. He was giving my soul something it needed desperately, even if it was tearing my mind apart. Feeling a little like a junkie, I said, "Yes, okay."

"I won't give it to you unless you really want it." My first impulse was to let Daniel know that I was doing him a favour. I hadn't begged for his damn address, and dangling it now that I'd admitted my need was cruel. Then it came to me, he'd felt the trepidation in my reply, and he wanted to be sure I wasn't just trying to humour him. He still didn't know he'd hooked my soul through Winc and that whatever my mind told me, Winc/Malisa/I would be back for more.

I typed rapidly, "Yes, I do." And felt the Junkie-Jitters slow down as Daniel passed his address across to me. "I really will have to go shortly; however, I can e-mail you."

"That would please me... and could you tell me your e-mail address? You're the most wonderful person I have ever met in IRC, and I want to avoid losing track of you."

"Really??" I didn't know whether to feel good, bad or distrustful anymore. After my recent experiences, I no longer trusted my female impulses and was never sure of how people took me. Here was someone who was not only accepting but wanted me. As much as his professions stroked Malisa deep inside me, my mind kept screaming to be wary.

"Yes, Winc, I just want you to know that I don't use IRC much. Normally, I use NetMeeting or TeleVox, but I have never met someone like you, Winc. Can I have your address?? e-mail that is"

I nervously let me/Winc pass Daniel my address. He gazed at the card as if it were a most precious possession. Then he looked up at me with big doe-brown eyes and said, "Thanks Winc... New Zealand?"

"Yep," I nodded, a bit shame-faced. I thought I'd mentioned it to Daniel before; had he forgotten? I watched his face become saddened. "Does that mean you're not interested anymore?" The tear between mind and soul grew wider as one side rejoiced at finding something to deter Daniel's pursuit of me/Winc, and the other despaired the former might be right.

"No, Winc, I'm still interested. There are things distance can't change."

I'd started this gambit. I had to see it through and remind Daniel how 'Fun' A long-distance romance can be. "Sometimes it can, Daniel. It changes how far romance can grow; it can kill it before..."

He interrupted with a smile, "Yes, but sometimes it makes romance grow bigger than the distance, and it doesn't have the chance to die."

He sounded like he really believed that, and deep inside, I also wanted to. "True, sometimes it does."

"Who knows, maybe I'm lucky enough." Daniel gave a depreciating lop-sided grin on his face.

The words echoed in my mind and soul. 'Maybe he's lucky enough!'

I knew Winc/I was beaming at Daniel. "I haven't felt this alive in a long while."

The other side of Daniel's mouth came up. "You deserve to be happy, and if I can bring you happiness, that will make me happy. I'll try to send you a picture if I can."

"No pictures!!!" I screamed. He would want one of me, but there is no accurate picture of me. There were only pictures of this foul being I had been born as!

Daniel was startled. "Why not? You don't even want to see me?"

"Because pictures cross the boundaries of... Well, of something." How could I tell Daniel this without sounding vain? It's not vanity; I am just not that male thing in the mirror. I'm... "Let me get to know you first," I said. Simultaneously, maybe I can get to know myself too, I thought.

"Okay, if that's what It takes," Daniel said, squeezing my/Winc's hand gently.

Why not tell him. He has most of the pieces. "The thing is..." I swallowed. "Gender is a problem in real life. I have no better way to say it. I have a few friends on IRC that really know the difficulties of my gender and how it affects me.

"I understand." Daniel sighed. "Winc... You're worrying more than I am."

"True, but you're not the one with the fucked gender." It came out a little more bitterly than I meant, but it was true.

Another gentle squeeze. "Relax, we'll go through this slowly and together. Okay?"

Our discarded clothes evaporated and reappeared on their proper hosts. I was a little disconcerted to find I was still in girl mode. Malisa was still out. I(my mind) wanted the security (the non-feeling) of being gender-less (a non-person) again. I wasn't sure I could handle an explanation if I could feel human while doing it.

"Some days on IRC, I am a guy, and others, I'm a woman... Then sometimes, I'm Non-gendered, that is what I was today..." I was breathing hard now. Tell it all. "A nothing, no plans to be anything, until you came along and totally screwed up that non-gendered persona. I can't tell you that the female me will be as easy to come out the next time you see me. So, if you can handle that, then yes, I would like to keep in contact."

"Okay..." Daniel actually took his time and tried to ask an intelligent question. "How do you feel about yourself? When you're a guy, are you straight?

"I can be anything; gender to me can flow." I thought I was telling the truth. But then I (My mind) had turned a blind eye to the fact I continued to default into girl mode, while it took a conscious effort to maintain a male or even a non-gender. "I don't believe in the binary scale of gender."

I knew people who were non-binary, people who believed themselves to be none of the socially constructed identifiers of gender. When they explained it to me, they described it as being themselves, not identified as gender or someone who must fit a specific gender box. But to me, it was a more safe space where if I was telling myself I was ex-gender, none of the Dysphoria of being the wrong sex didn't rampage over my soul and mind.

"Okay, I know what you mean, and I can handle it. Gender is a state of mind."

I don't know why I decided to chat anymore. Maybe I just wanted to spend more time with Daniel, to understand him better. All I know is, instead of calling time, I asked, "What do you study?"

"I study Aviation, and you?"

"Social and Women's studies."

"I see." The grin was back as he asked. "I hope I won't be a part of some project."

"No chance. I couldn't do that to anyone without asking first." I laughed appreciatively and gave Daniel's hand a squeeze. "I don't know why, but I really think I've clicked with you."

It was Daniel's turn to blush now. "Winc, Uh... in your everyday life."

"Yes? 'In my everyday life???'"

"How do you deal with this in your everyday life?" he asked, softly giving my hand a slight squeeze back.

I grimaced. In for a penny... "Counsellors, I need help trying to sort out who I am. If I am. I don't know anymore."

I tried to explain more about what I was struggling with, but I couldn't seem to say anything without pausing and self-doubting myself and what I was going to say. I had told myself so many times I had had enough of my problems, and why would anyone else really care?

I didn't like exposing myself this way. While I struggled to speak, I could feel tears welling up, and my heart started swelling and fit to burst. "Damn, this is hard. I don't like... I'm going to go. It's too hard."

Daniel's grip tightened, though. Faster than I could part the channel and leave, he said, "I wish I could comfort you somehow, but don't go... Not just yet. I wish there was something I could do for you right now."

"So do I, Daniel, but neither you nor I can change how this... how I feel." I wanted to go, to stay, to run and be held.

"Right now, I wish you were here, and I would hold you." I stayed a moment more and listened to Daniel's next round. "What's the strongest gender for you?"

"Female." The response came before I thought about it, but I had to add to it when my mind retook control. "But I can't really claim to be anything. No woman or man, neither gay nor straight... I'm a nothing right now, really." I'd been telling myself that for months. It sounded like a kind of living death the first time I said it, and every time I repeated it, I felt that much deader inside, but it was like what Bill Cosby once said about Novocain. It doesn't kill the pain. It just lets tiny 'Pain Buddies' build up so that when the pain comes back, it's that much stronger. Every time I stopped telling myself I was nothing, that I was something, and my whole situation came crashing down on me once again.

"People see me as male, then they talk to me, and get confused and start seeing me as me, which is a nothing. No real gender. If they only go by looks, they see a man. If they only go by what is inside, they see a female. If they go by what I try to show them, I hope they just see nothing."

"I see," Daniel said. "Okay, but you're NOT, nothing. Winc, I see you as a woman, and I think that you are wonderful as a woman."

"So do many others. I can act on IRC," But was it ever really more than that? The others who hurt me never thought so. "But just because I can wear a bodysuit of the gender that is being played, that doesn't make me that in real life. Real-life is not so easy, more the pity."

"Yes. But this still hasn't changed my mind." Daniel ran a finger' cross my cheek, sweeping a tear away. "I still consider you the most wonderful person I've ever met on IRC."

Winc/me blushed again and smiled my/Winc's most winning smile. Daniel pulled me into his arms and held me tightly as I rested my head lightly on his shoulder. Sheltered like that, I felt control come back and forced myself/Winc into an androgynous form. Daniel couldn't have missed the change, but he continued holding me in his comforting embrace and kissing my/Winc's forehead.

"Thank you, Hon," I muttered back as I felt a shiver of pleasure at his attention and caring for me.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" He whispered. "You're a little afraid of becoming too much of a girl. I like you this way too. Do you feel like a man now?"

"I feel like neither right now, just... well relaxed and feeling more at ease than I have felt for a while. I think that is your doing; being able to just share and be accepted is something unique."

"Thank you, but it is effortless to want to care for you. I don't know why; I just feel that it is something I want to do."

There was quietness as we just sat there, with his arms around him. Finally, he continued with his questions, "Do you have desires for a particular sex?"

"Both sexes. I'm bi... I think." I couldn't really identify as Bi-sexual; it felt like it wasn't really the correct explanation of how I felt sexually towards others. "It isn't really about their sex, but... well, about how they make me feel."

It seemed Daniel was having trouble with that aspect. "So you see a beautiful female, and it turns you on?" He asked.

"Seeing anything doesn't turn me on," I replied. "I need to get to know them, get to be their friend. A person's looks don't account for anything, really." I stopped and tried to think of something to quickly and clearly explain how I felt my sexual was. "I am... non-sexual. It isn't about sex and looks for me; it is about the emotional bond I form with people."

There was a long pause before Daniel finally nodded. "I see... I think." Daniel said, but I didn't think he did.

Another pause and he added, "But if you feel attracted to a female, what is that like, is it like a male to female, or is it a female to female attraction?" He shook his head and looked a bit ashamed at the question. "Never mind, I'm being very superficial here, and if you consider me being idiotic, I'm sorry."

I giggled myself. At least Dan understood when he didn't know enough to ask a reasoned question. Attraction is attraction.

I figured I would use material I had read that helped me understand how sexuality worked for me. "Have you ever read the book Nearly Roadkill?"

"No, is it good?"

"Superb." Reading that book had helped a lot in fashioning my present attempt of being... me. It had been somewhat a revelation to me. "In fact, the two main characters started out like you and I are now. About two people on IRC, finding each other, and broke a stupid government law."

"What law?" Daniel asked.

"Registration. The government wants everyone to register their names, addresses, personal details, their genders. While the other stuff is wrong, it is the gender one that stops them from registering. The authors are Caitlin Sullivan and Kate Bernstein.

"I see," Daniel said thoughtfully. "I'm gonna read it."

"You better!" I said, thumping his chest lightly.

"I better!?" Daniel smiled and gave me another hug.

Cradled in that embrace, I decided to drop another hint as to how much 'Nearly Roadkill' affected me. "'Winc' is from that book, you know."

"Really?" Daniel grinned. "So, do you pay or get a royalty?"

"I have taken one of the character's names... The other person is Scratch."

"What's your real name then? I told you mine."

I grinned and gave him a quote from "The Prisoner", "That would be telling."

"Aw, c'mon. You can call me Daniel instead of Pine."

"How about Dan?" I teased.

"I prefer Daniel, but if you really like 'Dan.'"

"Okay, Daniel," I grinned. My act was coming back. "You can call me Mattie."

Daniel cocked a brow. "Mattie isn't a very female name."

It crossed my mind I shouldn't name someone I didn't want to "hear" from. "My female name is Malisa... Please don't use that; however, I'm not really in that mode. And it is hard to accept right now. So just Mattie..."

Again he showed a very comforting acceptance. "Okay... Mattie."

"Thanks, Hon." Glancing in the lower-right corner of my screen, I noticed the time. "Oh shit! I'm going to have to go."

Daniel disengaged from Winc/me. "No problem. I'll e-mail you, sweet Mattie."

"Bye, Hon. You're wonderful." I called, and then Daniel, this man who made me feel so damn good, dropped a bombshell on me.

"By the way... I am 18, just in case you want to know..."

"Only eighteen! Oh." God, I thought I was a good actress. Some guy who was pretty much a kid had me feeling emotions I couldn't really understand or comprehend!

"Yes, is that a problem?" Daniel's face fell. "I hope not."

"I've just turned 25." He's a teenager, I thought. I know he was old enough to do what we almost did, but... the difference in our ages couldn't really mean anything... could it? No! I pushed the thoughts back. I didn't even really know him yet, so why bother worrying about how young he was!

"So, I'll e-mail you, okay?"

"Now you know everything." If I continue with him..., what does that make me? Would Daniel ever be interested in me now that he knows I'm seven years older? Seven years! When I was eighteen, he was eleven.

"Well, it's not a problem for me, don't worry," Daniel said.

"Really!?" Why did I/Winc sound so happy? I still didn't know how to feel about this. I wanted to avoid taking someone who is pretty much a boy as a cyber-lover, didn't I? These things always fucked me off about IRC; you could never really tell someone's age by how they acted and behaved. Someone who acted like an immature idiot could end up being in their late fifties, while someone who was an utter gentleman and very mature could scare you and be very young, even too young!

"I won't use the information for anything bad!" Daniel was almost pleading. "Age is just another state of mind. Heck! Most of what we believe to be physical is really a state of mind and what people have told us to believe."

"True..." I said slowly. Much of what he just said was the fundamental basis of gender-neutral people. The gender they pick for themselves is more natural compared to what parents, doctors, teachers and society state their gender should be.

I could sense him wanting to keep me there, and I knew that if I didn't get out of there now, I would continue to loiter around. Just having his attention on me felt accelerating, and just like a drug, I wanted more of it. But the time was screaming for my attention, and I knew I had to get out of there.

He could sense I was about to leave and spoke up, "Bye, take care! And don't forget about this guy who really likes this girl..."

I stopped (I don't know why), "What little guy that likes what girl?" Why did I ask? I knew what he meant, and yet... yet I wanted to hear him say it. And damn it, Winc/me was almost at the door!

Daniel's voice matched his quiet smile. "Me and you..."

Hold on to yourself, I thought. You are 25 years old. You are not a teenage girl, alone, unsure of herself and scared! Now politely excuse yourself and break the connection...

NOW DAMMIT!

With that running through my head, all Daniel heard was a polite "Bye." and I was gone.

It was hitting me hard. How could an 18-year-old kid make me feel this way again? What right did he have, making me feel like a teenage, crushing girl? The feelings going through me at that time were ones I wished to hide from.

After that chat, I was confused and scared. But I could handle it! I would handle it.

I would e-mail him and tell him to go away. I would tell the little shit that I couldn't talk to him. I would say to him anything, just to stop this feeling I was getting inside again.

But I didn't send; I knew that I had to go to bed to get up on time tomorrow morning and do my tasks. Additionally, my flatmates hated me getting back into the house from the garage too late as it would wake them up.

I shut down my PC and committed to dealing with Daniel and these feelings he had caused tomorrow after processing them more.

The following day, however, before I could process how I would move ahead with the Daniel situation, his e-mail sent me into vicious circles (When in danger or in doubt, run in circles. Scream and shout.).

It sent me into a place in my mind that wouldn't just shut off. Noise, thoughts, overwhelming dread rushed over me, and I couldn't seem to shut it down.

Had the water level of my stream dropped rapidly, leaving the sticks to scrape away at me, cutting at my flesh and bone, or had the sticks and reeds simply grown so large from being unattended that they were now going to explode into splinters that would rip through my mind and soul.

-------------
Author's notes: I want to talk a bit about what I feel about this whole situation now, especially since I am older and wiser (debatable!). But, I want to leave my commentary to the end of the whole story, to prevent creating spoilers.

Chapter Three
Moments of the E-mail Reply and A Helping Hand.

I sat in front of my computer, reading the e-mail from Daniel like reading my own obituary in a newspaper. It was killing me, and it just showed that I wasn't stable; I didn't have control. I didn't know it, but this e-mail was the one thing, the one simple thing, that was going to send me into my darkest hours.

From Daniel
To Mattie
Date 30th March 1997

"Hi!

I'm sorry if I brought any bad feelings back to you. It is not my intention to; the last thing I would like to do is hurt someone as beautiful as you. Mattie, I understand how you must feel, probably scared, maybe happy too. I just want you to know that the person I talked with yesterday, for me, that was a wonderful person, regardless of what they wear or how they live. You know what they say, the looks don't matter, what matters is what is inside, that is the reality of a beautiful and perfect relationship.

If I could put a body and a face to you, drawing it from what I know about you, it would be a gorgeous one. I can't like you from what you are outside since I haven't ever seen you, so obviously, I enjoy you from what you are inside.

Mattie, you are a wonderful person; you deserve to be happy; if I can help you feel happiness again, that will make me happy too. If you are happy feeling like a girl (a beautiful girl that can steal a boy's heart like you did with me), then be a girl who cares what other people say. The only opinion you should care about is the opinion of the ones that actually care for you and your own. You're a wonderful person, and that's all that is important."

I stopped reading the e-mail, my heart aching and screaming for release. I couldn't believe the way this e-mail switched on Malisa even more. It had made me want to be Malisa again. Malisa wanted out. Malisa was the woman that I so much wanted and needed to be. Malisa was what I was trying to deny an existence, yet, she was fighting for freedom, and this dam e-mail was her reinforcements against my 'nothingness'.

Staring out the window, I screamed inside. I so much wanted to know why this was happening again. Why was life so cruel to send this young and innocent boy into my life? Why was this boy so hard to ignore? Could I push it away and ignore this any more?

When I thought I had just gotten stable, this happened again, dredging up the conflicting emotions, doubts, and intense need to be someone I wasn't born as. Life, my feelings, my very existence was unfair and cruel!

I looked back to the monitor and wondered if this was my doom. I continued reading the terrible, scary, confusing, lovely, loving, sweet words. I was dying, yet I couldn't really see it at that time.

"You know, I know we are far away, yet, I feel so close to you already. So fast. I've never experienced all these feelings this fast before. Usually, it would take me a long time to feel strongly for anyone, but it has happened too fast with you. It is as if you made my emotions snap into place with you. I want you to be happy. I feel you are a wonderful woman. I wish I could be with you, hold you in my arms, and feel your warm body next to mine. I want to tell you all this while we hold our hands together instead of having to write them in front of my computer.

I can't understand how life could put such a fantastic female in the body of a male. Still, I am not having these feelings for your body; I'm feeling all this for you, the person, not the body.

Malisa, excuse me for calling you this way, but that's the woman I care so much for, the female. Not the thing you are trying to hide behind. You are such a wonderful person. Every word in your IRC to me made me so happy. I wish I could hear those words instead of reading them, but we know that is not possible right now.

I don't know if what, I feel, is only friendship; it is so intense, so raw.

I feel like saying your name and looking at you; I want to be with that wonderful girl you are. You feel like a woman, act like a woman, talk like a woman. For me, that means you are a woman. I don't think either you or I can change that. I want you to feel happy and loved and know that someone cares for you.

If I had your love, I would never hurt you. Love has to be worked on constantly, and if a person as incredible and special as you gave me her love, I wouldn't ever hurt that person. The absolute opposite, I would love her as much or more. And I would feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

Malisa, I feel a better person just because I've met you. Thanks for letting me get to know you a little more and letting me discover the beauty of yourself. That beauty is in your heart and goes deeper within you than anything else. Your beauty is inside you; that's what I like about you, your interior beauty.

I'm here in my house, just thinking about you and wishing you could read my thoughts. I see you in your house, alone, and I wonder how such an incredible girl like you is alone. Here, in front of my computer, thinking and dreaming about you and wishing you are happy, and you are whatever you want to be. One is whatever one feels like. I know you feel like a girl, and for me, I see you like a girl because you are a girl.

I'll be waiting for your hopeful reply, sweet Malisa.

Love
Daniel"

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. This sweet e-mail had somehow made my mind like a raging river of thoughts. Why!? Why could this e-mail, out of all the others, cause such problems for me? I scanned it again. What had he said that had hit me so hard? What had he said that had made my soul scream with distress?

Damn! The whole e-mail was breaking my mind in two, but the last sentence, "I know you feel like a girl, and for me, I see you like a girl because you are a girl.", killed me every time I read it.

I must have read that one sentence ten, twenty, a hundred times. Each time brought a tear and with it the thought of despair. This… just… wasn't… fair!!! I started searching inside myself, searching for whom I should be. What was I, where could I live? Not physically, but emotionally, mentally, socially. Where could I LIVE!!!

I didn't know what to do. What could I say or write? What could I say replying this young man? This one person had suddenly turned my life upside down and back to front again.

My mask of so-called normalcy cracked, crumbled and fell away as the gender problems I had been trying to hide away broke free. I felt like I was bleeding inside.

As despair filled my being, I knew I had to scream for help. Madness seemed right around the corner. I needed to talk to someone who could understand and calm me down. But where could I find that help? The pressure and torment inside me had to be released. I needed someone to listen to me. Then I suddenly remembered the one place I had cried at before…

IRC.

Many times before, I had cried while talking to people on IRC. Many times before, Internet had been my lifeline. It had helped me sort out my problems to help settle me back down. I took to the Internet like a spider to a fly, quickly injecting my frantic feelings into the channels, screaming like a baby screaming out for someone to help them. Finally, one person came to my assistance and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't believe it, I had found someone I could cry on.

I cried as I typed away to her, my feelings running wild. No, yes. This couldn't be happening again. Damn it, I can/can't handle this. I'm a man/woman/I'M A NOTHING! I screamed out to this person, holding my feelings out like flowers for the taking. After I cried to her, I knew that I would be safe again. Just the dumping of my feelings would usually allow me to ground myself, see how silly I was for feeling this way and go back to just pushing it all back, so I could ignore it.

Tennfem guided my construct Winc to a chair. If she noticed that Winc/I had only the barest resemblance to human form, she didn't show it. My initial outburst had left me too exhausted to do anything but cry before her. She sat across from me and waited. "It's going to be okay, Winc. Take your time, dear."

Noiselessly, I/Winc sniffed and tried to calm down. "I don't know how to say anything any more. I think I just need someone to talk to… Someone to just cry with." Tennfem nodded and made just the appropriate noises to keep me going. "You know, explain where I am, how I feel…" But my chest constricted again, and I was forced to admit I was crying again.

"Aw honey - it's okay….just tell me," Tennfem said, reaching across to grip my/Winc's doughy, almost shapeless hand. There was no disgust in her at his formless thing sitting in front of her. She had already defined herself in the role of counsellor, but I/Winc had no form. Just a vague shape. "Go ahead, Hon. I won't judge you." she encouraged.

"I was born a male. I should still be that." I dove in, letting the awful questions plaguing me flow through my fingers to the keyboard and then to Winc's/my lips. I could almost imagine my construct's from flowing and shifting, presenting a masculine image to match the definition I was laying out. "But I'm nothing any more. I can't be who I want to be, and I'm not male. So, what does that make me? NOTHING!" Winc/I collapsed back into its/my former, doughy shape before Tennfem's eyes.

I couldn't handle this. I was breaking up.

This wasn't working like before. With every word, every letter I typed, I felt more confused. I felt more pain. I felt myself slipping into a black, sucking void.

Seeing my distress, Tennfem said, "You dear thing! My husband is Transgender; believe me, I understand…" A thought seemed to flash across her face. "Sweetheart, where are you??!!"

"At my computer." I typed numbly. It wasn't an attempt at humour. My mind was so deadlocked in the little 'logic mantras' that had brought me to this point, I simply spit up the most straightforward and most accessible response. With a little more coaching, Tennfem was able to find out I lived in New Zealand. "Sorry. I can't think. It all hurts to do much."

So far, I could not transmit anything but my pain and hurt. She wanted to help and tried fishing to respond by letting me know her credentials. "My husband is a male who wants to be a woman; I do understand… Now tell me, why do you say you're nothing any more." I/Winc just sat there trembling. "There are others like yourself. You are a female who wants to…" She saw me/Winc wince at her faux pax. "… I mean, sorry. You're confused, right?"

No, that isn't right, I thought, thrashing against the darkness that wouldn't release me. I wasn't confused. Not really. I was mad. Fate, God, Karma, whatever had bent me over and done me raw, without even a little foreplay. I took that resentment and threw it at Tennfem. "I have the sex of a male. The stinking damn male gentiles. And I HATE IT! I hate being a man! I am not a Man! I hate being what I am not!"

Screaming it out across the keyboard like that didn't help. It solidified how I had been trying to deny, shift, alter the narrative of my existence. For so long, I had been telling myself, enforced by the comments from my father, counsellors, and other so-called friends, that I was born male and that it was what I was. Yet, so many things made me pine to be otherwise; so many other things had pushed me further and further into realising that I wasn't whole; I was missing a massive part of my existence.

I suddenly had in a cold realisation that I was lying to myself, that the whole "non-gender" thing I was using was trying to hide from the fact that my life had been fucked over, and I would never have what I really wanted!

"I see. I understand. How is all of this accepted in your country? Can you transition into a female?"

Evidently not, I thought, recalling 'friendly comments', 'advice', half-heard snickers and occasionally the silence that accompanied my arrival in areas I wanted to belong.

"I don't know what I want any more. I don't know what I want." If I let it all out, it'll help, I thought. Then I can go back to things I can do something about.

"Let me explain; at the start of last year, I was going to change sex. Because that is how I felt I should be. However, about 3-4 months ago, I got confused. People were telling me I wasn't acting (and didn't act) like a normal/typical female. I thought that maybe I wasn't a
woman enough and couldn't change. So many people told me what I was doing wasn't right, that I wasn't thinking clearly and allowing the stress of my life and university to get to me. I wasn't a good enough woman, I wasn't a good enough man, so… what could I be? I stopped my two months of hormones. I even changed my name to Mattie on a mail list I am on because I couldn't be Malisa; I couldn't be ME!"

"Bless your heart! Honey, do not let other people deter you from achieving your dreams." Looking back, I know Tennfem was trying to be supportive and give me some of the acceptance I wanted, but I didn't bother 'listening' to her.

"I've been trying to sort out my life. I thought that maybe I was only feeling the way I did because of wanting to fit in; I don't know what I felt. I put it into anything, made excuses, made it seem like anything I was feeling wasn't me being Transsexual. I mean, I couldn't identify with females, and I sure never identified with males. Then I thought, 'okay, I'm nothing. I can't be male, and I can't be female… I'll be a NON-gender, fuck the world. I'll be something in the middle.'"

By this time, I was pounding the words out. There was so much emotion and pain, I couldn't keep up with it. With every word, another tear fell to the keyboard. A little more of my mind slipped into the darkness that was growing in my soul with every letter.

Winc's ears were dead Tennfem tried to draw me out and begin to address the problem. "Listen, would you like to correspond with my husband? S/he has been all through the whole thing before, and I'm sure could be more than helpful to you."

But I was too busy pushing my story out through Winc. "I've felt stuck, confused, but no one can live in the 'real world' androgynously!" On IRC, it's okay," I can't honestly say I was even listening to myself at this moment. I'd already found that even on IRC, I preferred to present myself in my soul's form. "… in real life, it doesn't work!"

All through this, Tennfem tried to let me know she was there to help. She asked for my address, she made all the correct comforting comments and finally pleaded with me. "Please allow us to help you. I want to be your friend if you'll let me, and so would my partner."

But none of it was registering. I don't know why, but I couldn't see Tennfem's helping hand. She had reached out her hand, offered the help I was crying out for, but I couldn't see it. It was like I was screaming, and I couldn't hear anyone else. I was in a black hole, and I felt like I was getting deeper and deeper. I was losing my mind, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

So, I screamed on, "I figured that I could handle being a non-gendered person. Shit, after reading 'Nearly Roadkill', I saw other people out there must feel like I do about gender and how people only seem to have a binary vision where it comes to it. I mean, if I wasn't good enough a woman, and couldn't identify as a man, then I had to be in the middle, nothing, right!"

I paused a moment; that whole sentence seemed so wrong right now because it wasn't suitable for what was happening inside my soul right then. Malisa was screaming foul, and she wanted back out; it was not right for me to push her back and away from my life! But I couldn't live like her. When I had tried to live as a woman, everyone said I was wrong, everyone looked at me strangely, they judged me and my life was made hell just for being different!

I blindly continued my rapid, frantic typing, "Then I met an 18-year-old boy yesterday, whom I thought I was just going to have cybersex with. We never got to the sex. Instead, we started talking like we had known each other for ages, and he brought all the feelings of Malisa (my female self) back again. I've been trying so hard not to feel like I'm stuck in this body. And now it has all come back again with a vengeance."

"And it will keep on coming back, dear," Tennfem said. "I wish you lived here in the States and not so far away."

I was reaching the end of the rant now, but instead of flushing the tension out of my system as it had before, it just kept getting worse. "I can't be a woman… I don't act like one; I don't look like one… I will never pass. I want so much just to be one, though! I can't handle this any more… I just can't handle this ANY MORE!!!"

Tennfem hugged me/Winc fiercely. "It's all right, really! You have just found TWO good friends. We are here for you; we understand!!"

"There is no one here who understands." Didn't she get it? "Most of the TS's I know just think I'm playing. Damn it, I'm going mad. I just want to escape this hell!"

She passed me her E-mail address and pleaded. "Please write to us, my husband's female self is named Ronilea, and she will be only too happy to help you… really. Please promise me that you'll write to Ronilea and allow her to help you? Okay? Please?"

I don't think I was even interested in getting help any more. I'd run the circle of 'I want/ I can't have, and I am/ I never will be, for so long that a grim resolve was beginning to form. I don't even think I would have heard help even if Tennfem had been standing in front of me.

Thoughts raced through my head, I could feel spiteful hate at the whole situation coming over me, and my resolve was just crumpling all over me. Life was over. There was no help.

"There isn't anything she can do for me," I replied, feeling a dullness coming over me as the realisation of my next move started to seep in. "I'm already seeing a counsellor, and that isn't helping! I'm gender fucked, and that is about it." The pain had to end somehow. "Do you know what it feels like, not belonging!?"

Tennfem could see where this was going and tried to hold me tighter. "Please, Winc, counsellors are one thing; someone who's been there is something else! I know from what my partner has told me how it feels, honey… honestly."

I had really been building up to this for weeks. So much time had been used telling my so-called 'peers', and they said the most hurtful things. I wasn't Trans enough, I wasn't trying to be a real woman, I was not really doing it right. No, other people who said they had Dysphoria didn't mean they really gave a rat's ass about how it was for me!

My resolve hardened. "I've spoken to a LOT of TS's! I don't know what else to say. I'm giving up…" It was with those three words, "I'm giving up", that I suddenly knew I was fucked. They weren't true. I wasn't giving up. This was more; the feelings that had been building up and over me were just too much and…

It was like I suddenly lost all thoughts, my mind chillingly clear, my emotions were impulsive, sudden, painfully sharp but directed. With a cold, calming realisation that I realised I wasn't giving up… I had already given up.

Now it was Tennfem's turn to ramble blindly. She had to know she'd lost me, but to her credit, she kept trying as long as the channel was open. "My partner is a great big guy, six feet four, very manly and hunky-looking… but in his heart, he is a petite, beautiful WOMAN… and I love this person with all my heart. Winc, please… Do you believe me that I understand?"

I couldn't reply; I wasn't even really reading any more. I rationalised that logically I didn't know how to stop the pain, and I was busy studying that logic like a jeweller checking a fine gem for flaws.

Even as Tennfem continued to talk, I counted the facets that made the dark gem that contained my soul. How could I make this gem brighter? How could I mean the feel safer and more welcoming? I couldn't answer, so… if I couldn't save the gem, then smashing it would be the only solution.

"I do understand. My partner and I have spent HOURS and HOURS talking about this. I am devoted to this person, and we would like to help you, too…really !!!"

My brain had gone into an analytical thinking model, stepping through everything like a check-list.

Facet one: Who can I go to? "I'm alone here, and that is how I feel." One tick for breaking the gem.

Facet two: Who have I got left here? "The people I thought I could talk to are nothing but backstabbers. They don't care." Second tick for breaking the gem.

"I know there are many thousands of miles in between us, but WE CARE! Would you come to the States if you could?"

Facet three: Where can I go? "If I could afford it, I would be there Today. I know that for sure." Stopping for a moment, I re-examined the first Facet again.

"The only people who care about me are there. I just wish I was there, so I could be with them… "But I couldn't be there. I couldn't afford to fly there; I couldn't just magic myself there. No, Facet one was indeed correct.

Facet four: How do I feel. I am alone; I have no one around me, no one I can really feel safe with, or even just get a hug from when I feel so profoundly down. I feel like shit, and I want to stop feeling like shit. And I can't stop feeling like shit. Third tick for breaking the gem.

"It WILL work out, Winc… BELIEVE IN YOUR DREAMS!!"

Facet five: Hope for the future? "I wish I could." But, there is no hope, no future where I can see happiness or the ability to live without this continued pain throbbing at my chest and mind every moment. There is no hope. Fourth tick for breaking the gem.

"My partner is 40 years old. He's lived with his dream for all his life… but now it's going to come true. You're still young. You can make yours come true, too!"

Total clarity: "I'm 25 and feel like a 12-year-old lost in New York." Dull as ditch water. And brightness? Logic had shown me that it was pointless, I had checked it off in my mind, and with the maddening rush of clarity, I knew this was the right thing to do.

"I can't live with this any more… I can't!!!!!! I'm breaking up inside!!!!!!!!!"

That was my final hit of the "enter" button, as the despair, anger, and pain washed over my heart, my head, my soul. I was so angry that I had finally realised my whole existence was for nothing; it was pointless, it meant nothing to anyone, even to myself.

I struck out, my arms thrashing for the closest thing. My arms wiped across the table, clearing the papers, books, and filing cabinet from the table to the floor with an all mighty crash.

My hand rose while forming into a fist and crashed into the computer, smashing the off button and cracking the casing. This closed my link to the Internet, IRC, and the world. And in the eerie silence, the fan of the computer dead, no sound outside, I was alone, and I was breaking down.

I was crying then like I had never cried before. "NOOOOO!" I shouted, my tears just making me more upset and angrier, driving me deeper into despair. I collapsed to the floor, my head pounding on the carpet underneath me.

Not once, not twice, but six times my head thrashed against the floor, trying to kill the black thoughts building inside my mind. "I want to die!" I cried to god, to anyone, anyone that would make it happen. "KILL ME… DAMN IT KILL ME!!!!"

I was buried in the feelings of grief, the feeling of emptiness and despair overcoming my common sense and my mind. I wanted it all to just go away. I wanted protection from the pain and the confusion. I just wanted to die. WHY, WHY can't I be a female? Why can't I just BE ME!!! DAMN THIS LIFE! DAMN IT TO HELL! This was all that kept running through my mind as I continued to hit my head against the stone floor.

I hated everyone and myself. I hated this world, my life in it and the prospect of continuing to live like this. 'Why couldn't I be a woman?' rushed through my head as I cried out for peace. I want to be a girl. Nothing should hurt this bad. Not even death.

It was then I knew it was time. I had had my outburst, my moment of trying to push away the thoughts, but my emotional, violent tantrum hadn't solved anything.

In cold, stark reality, I reaffirmed that death couldn't hurt this much; nothing could hurt as much as I felt right then. Nothing. I knew right then how to end it, and right then, at that very moment. I was terrified, but at the same time, resolved in my course of action.

I had a plan in my mind, a perfect method to end the pain, and it was going to work. I knew it would. It was simple; no one was at home, I had full access to the medicine cabinet, and I knew there were a lot of sleeping tablets and Panadol (painkillers) in there. I knew it would work.

The resolve came over me, and I attempted to get up like a zombie. But my body wouldn't move. My mind was set; I wanted to do this; I knew it was the only way to get over this pain and anguish. Yet, my body lay there, unwilling to play along with the self-destructive action. I cursed my damn body for not cooperating - but I was too tired in my head to fight. I lay there, figuring that given time, my uncooperative side would relax, but my course of action wouldn't. I would do this. It was the only way.

As I lay there, knowing how the end would come, and my mother's presence appeared before me. Not an image, but a feeling. There was a sense of her standing there looking down at me. The feeling of her love washed over me.

My anger at being denied my death, at my body refusing to move, suddenly turned to despair and then utter sadness. I started to cry again, my mind crying out in pain. I felt sorry like I had hurt her, pained her. Why couldn't I just do it? Why couldn't I just get it over and done and leave this life behind? Death was within my reach. Why couldn't I just do it?

The despair seemed to have jolted my body back to action, and I managed to get up from the floor. Even my mother's love hadn't obliterated my resolve. I knew I had to take those tablets. Living like this wasn't an option any more!

Slowing my breathing with a large deep breath, I calmed myself down. This was going to be hard enough as it was; I couldn't break down while I was taking those pills. I had to finish this, and this was the only way to kill this pain. I had resolved myself. I had to stop this pain once and for all.

I went to walk out of the study, but I couldn't move once again! My body denied me, and it continued to fight. My mind screamed out in anguish. I wanted to get those tablets, so I could finish this now!

But I still couldn't move.

I stood there for twenty minutes, frozen like ice, just crying and unable to move. I think I collapsed as I found myself lying on the floor.

My body wasn't going to help me, and then there was that nagging feeling of my Mum watching over me.

I just lay there, confused. I wanted to end it; I needed to finish it… but why didn't my body want to?

I placed my hands to my head and just continued to cry a waterfall of tears. A dull headache throbbed against my skull.

I was breathing deeply and just listening to the silence of nothing as darkness took me.

CHAPTER FOUR
Moments of Confusion

The darkness didn't take me for long, and as I started to feel consciousness, my body seemed to automatically rise from the cold floor. I took hold of my phone with a trembling hand and dialled a number. A man answered the phone, and I asked for Christopher (the counsellor I would see on the 2nd of April).

Christopher came to the phone and said hello. His voice was like an anchor that suddenly brought me to tears again.

"It's Mattie." I sobbed, the tears suddenly coming back again, almost as if the time passed on the floor hadn't happened, and I was right back at square one. But the moment's pause allowed me to reach out with more logic, reaching out to someone in real-life who, I hoped, could guide me, direct me. Help that I had to urgently get before the suicidal side took over again and tried to end it all.

"It's been a bad day?" He questioned, his voice trying to calm my aching heart and emotions.

I gave him a sad laugh and replied softly, "You could say that."

He asked me to explain, to tell him what had happened. I explained my problems and my fears. I told him I was quitting. "I don't want to fight any more, I don't want the pain," I cried.

He asked men, "How. How are you going to end it."

I wasn't going to tell him as if telling him would allow him to tell me I was wrong or find flaws in it. But my want to live was starting to see the fountains it needed to stand up for itself and try to live. My words came out almost without control; they told him what my plan was, they told him I was scared. They told him I was honest. My own words betrayed me in my hope to end this suffering.

A cold, chilled attitude came over me as I explained to him. My crying slowed, and my breathing became distant. It was like being a passenger, listening to someone as they described the perfect crime. There was silence on the other end of the phone while I methodically stepped Christopher through the method of my madness. All the way through this, the realisation that I had the upper hand and could still do it before they could send help made me feel stronger and more in control.

However, no sooner had I asserted that control, Christopher started asking question's that instantly brought me to tears again. My emotions were rushing around my soul like a yo-yo. I couldn't help it. I felt like I was causing everyone else problems, and I should just disappear. I knew how to disappear, but why couldn't I just go do it!

I was lost and confused. I couldn't live any more. I had killed my link with my friends in the USA/Canada. I had said, "Goodbye." I was about to do something that was my last act. My exit from this terrible stage called life. Yet, here I was, my hands to the phone, my ear to the receiver, talking to Christopher. Why? I could have done it, I didn't need to call him and cry, and I didn't need to tell him I was scared. I WANTED TO DIE!

HANG UP! I screamed in my head. I begged myself hundreds of times to just hang the phone up, but I couldn't. I couldn't move. I just stood there and cried. Christopher finally told me he would call the crisis centre and get someone out to me right away.

He asked me a question; I remember the surprises he would ask. "Do you want me to do that?" He asked, referring to calling the crisis centre. I also remember that I couldn't answer him. I could no longer think.

I was lost, beaten, ended. All that should have been left was just disappearing, but something wouldn't let me. Something held me on; it kept me talking to a man I only knew was a Transgender Council worker.

He finally decided for me and said he was calling the crisis team. He told me that he would ring back after reaching the crisis centre, and I just agreed. I couldn't think. I didn't even really know what he was saying any more. It felt like my mind was shutting down again and was being replaced by this almighty headache.

He broke the connection and, in so doing, my lifeline. I collapsed to the floor and sat (lay?) there crying, with the phone receiver in my hand.

I don't know what happened after that; it was like my mind shut off. I can't remember if I went back into my comfortable black oblivion or if I had just been there on the floor for god knows how long crying.

My next memory was of a woman holding my shoulder, leaning down to wipe away one of my tears. I looked up at her, and she smiled, telling me that I would all right, that it was okay for me to cry. She introduced herself as PJ from the crisis team, and she was here to help.

A man walked up behind her and smiled down at me also. I looked up at him, my mind was still fuzzy from the tears and the pounding I had given my head against the floor. He reached down and took my hands, pulling me up to my feet.

Both of them helped me out of the study and up to the house. They sat me down on one of the sofas, treating me like a china doll. As if any kind of rough treatment would break me in two. Or was that just the way I felt?

They asked me to explain what had happened. "How do you feel?" PJ had asked.

I couldn't answer.

I couldn't feel anything as my mind and body were numb.

When they asked again, I just couldn't think.

I seemed to just float in and out like my mind was finally giving me the chance to just let go in warm, insulating darkness. I wanted back into that void that I had just been bought out of, one where nothing seemed to matter, where I was just gone.

They asked me if I wanted to go with them to the hospital or stay at the house. They wanted me to think about if I wanted to stay at the house? I couldn't answer them. I felt lost, and somehow I was already destroyed inside, and didn't they realise they were talking to a corpse? And, what does a corpse care about where it is... it is dead.

They finally made all the choices for me. They told me that I wasn't safe to be by myself and wanted a doctor to look over me, and still, I couldn't say a thing.

It was like everything was happening to me from outside my body. I would just scream away inside my mind that I desired to leave this place. This place was hurting me. I wanted to escape this life.

They escorted me to a white vehicle. Strange, but a funny joke rushed into my mind at that moment. There I was, about to be taken away, feeling like the walking dead, and I laughed inside about the irony that the vehicle wasn't a white van or even an ambulance, but a white Ford Telstar - so New Zealand.

I entered the opened back passenger door like a zombie and sat on the firm seat within. A hand grabbed the seat-beat and placed it around my chest. There was a click, and I was locked into place. I didn't really care; I wasn't active any more. Everything the two people in the front of the car said seemed distorted. Nothing was getting into my cotton wool mind any more. I screamed inside myself for release.

My wish was granted somewhere along the way to the hospital, as I must have passed out again because I know that the trip from my house into town was almost forty-five minutes. And, yet almost no time had passed before I awake again, finding myself on a bed.

I looked up from where I lay and found people looking over me and talking. At least, their mouths were moving, but somewhere between their mouths and my ears, the words were being lost.

Finally, the words started to fall into place, and I heard them talking to me instead of talking at me. I was so scared. They were explaining that I wasn't fit to be on my own, that I was in a significant state of depression, and it was causing major psychical and mental effects to me. They explained that they would be admitting me into ward 21, the psychiatric ward.

Needless to say, the part of me that was thinking was now bloody scared. I was still crying and unsure of what to do. Thinking back to it now, I had spent multiple hours crying; where the hell had all that water come from!

Nothing seemed to want to work. Talking was impossible. My mouth refused to say no, and I couldn't shake my head in negation. I just lay there as they placed a needle into my arm, and I quickly felt the power of their drugs take effect.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I wondered what would happen. I wondered if, this time, I would never wake up again; the loudest part of my mind really wished, with all its might, I wouldn't.

CHAPTER FIVE
Moments in Hotel 21

My night had been deep and restful. I hadn't woken, until a nurse, dressed in jeans and a red blouse, had come in and told me she was getting me my medicine.

I nodded absently in my sleepy state, and it wasn't till after she'd gone, it occurred to me, I didn't know where the hell I was. I remembered breaking down... Oh, did I remember that! I could also not forget finally being taken to the hospital, but what had happened then? I couldn't remember much of the time from leaving the house to waking up that morning.

As the nurse walked back into the room, I bombarded the poor woman with a million and one questions, like a small child would do to his mother or father. She stopped and raised her hand for quiet and smiled. She told me she would explain and answer what questions she could.

"Matthew," Ouch! That name hurt me enough to glare at her. She paused, then smiled, seeming to relax me again. "You were admitted to us last night as the crisis team didn't think you should be by yourself as depressed as you were. When you got here, you were unable to stop crying. You wouldn't or couldn't respond to the doctor's questions, so he finally requested you stay and that we would see how you were today." She explained what had happened while I sat there in my bed, just nodding like I understood. Which I really didn't.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked while handing me some pills and water.

I quickly dodged the question and played the clever 'answer a question with a question game. "What are these?" I asked, referring to the two tablets she had handed me.

"Just Prozac, to keep you calm, and Colmazopan. They will help you keep calm and be able to cope while you're in here." She answered with a gentle smile.

"Do I have to take them? I'm feeling heaps better this morning." I wasn't lying either. Compared to the day before, I felt at least eighty percent better. It was nearly as if it hadn't really happened. Nearly.

"Well, it would be better. However, you don't have to take the Colmazopan if you are not feeling anxious." She said in a soft voice. As she spoke, she edged a chair closer to my bed and sat on it... Waiting, watching, observing and annoying.

She was going to ask me questions, interrogate me. I would have to try and give her the answers they're looking for. Having already won the medicine battle (I hate taking medicines I don't need), I felt I could answer some of her questions. Still, she seemed like a nice enough person anyway; I'd humour her.

I wanted to avoid talking or answer any questions. I felt that talking about it, thinking about how I felt, what had started the whole thing, would set me off again.

I needed to close myself off again, and I could now do that. The calm feeling allowed my resolve to firm up again so that I could just be genderless and hide away from the Dysphoria that plagued me.

"So... How do you feel today?" she asked again, knowing this time there was no easy way for me to get out of answering since she was now sitting there, waiting.

The Prozac fell out of the little cup it was in and into my mouth. I took the cup of water and swallowed down the pill, questioning if it would really help or not and wondering if taking it hadn't answered her question already.

I reached inside myself, wondering how to answer her question or if it would even be wise to. A second of self-examination revealed I was feeling better. At least I didn't feel caught in the downward spiral of thought I had been yesterday. The all-consuming emptiness that had been pulling at me like a black-hole had subsided. But its event horizon, surrounding a core of pain and was still there holding a grip on my heart, making my chest feel tight and compressed.

Having considered all those points carefully, I looked the nurse dead in the eye, smiled (hoping it didn't come out as a grimace) and said, "Fine." I lied.

It could be dangerous to display my pain for everyone's examination and discussion. This was my private pain, and only I could deal with it, somehow. People didn't understand my pain. When I opened up, people tried to understand it and usually worsened it when explaining it back to me. It was like they would tell me how I should be feeling, not listening to how I did feel.

Anyway, something else was now on my mind, something that was heaps stronger, that was eating away at my spirit. Eating away at my being. I placed it down to being in a hospital. It was one of the most disliked places of my life. I don't know why I disliked hospitals, but I do. The sooner I was out of that place, the better.

"Do you still feel like killing yourself?" She asked, her voice calming and somehow compelling me to explore the question. I couldn't answer.

That one question had me teetering nearly bringing back all the emptiness I had felt the day before. This could not be a yes/no question. Until the heart of my pain was dealt with, one way or the other, I knew the void would continue to tempt me. Even then, the dreaded sequence of can/can't, would/could, and that dreaded 'why' circled just a thought away. I steeled myself and answered, the only way I thought I could.

"If the world," I said, gulping down the hard lump that had formed in my throat, "gave me a way out. I think... no, not think. I know I would take it." I felt tears building up again, but I squeezed them back, dancing back from the encroaching void. This time I was more in control and blew my emotions. Blow them to hell, I would deal with this, and I would make sure that there would be NO MORE CRYING!

"So you think you would still take your life if you were given a chance?" She asked, the worry evident in her voice. This was nothing like the movies that you watch on TV. The ones where the white coats come out talking to you like you are nothing but a broken object, rather than a person in need of a hand. This honestly seemed concerned and really wanted to help.

I nodded, knowing no more words were needed on this subject. It was clearly making me upset, and I couldn't talk about it any more. The nurse smiled and nodded. "Then it would be better for you to stay, for today at least." She explained her voice, calm and soothing.

I nodded again, knowing that inside myself, she was right. It didn't make me feel better about being in the hospital, but it made me realise that it was the best option for my own safety. For my safety.

"Well, there is lots for you to do during your stay here. There is a games room, where you can play pool and snooker. We've a piano and some other instruments in the music room. There is also the TV room where you can watch TV and make cups of coffee, tea and hot chocolate." As she explained the services available in this ward, I was starting to think it sounded more like a hotel than a hospital ward.

Finally, she finished telling me what this ward could offer, and I was surprised at the number of things available. There was a sauna, a pool, and nearly every type of board game you would ever wish for. The only thing they didn't have was a computer, and really all I desired to do right then was write. I wanted to create something as doing so channelled my emotions into something outside my own mind. It was my escape from the real world, in the hope that the pain would not be waiting for me when I got back.

Somehow the pain of everything I had gone through, the emptiness, wanted to be placed on paper. Written down, explained, seen that it really did happen. I didn't want to lose it; I just wanted to write it all down and store it somewhere safe so that I could look back and say, "This was me then… now, look at me."

Just then, I remembered feeling it. There was a fight building inside me. Something in me had suddenly, at that one moment, lit into a burning fire. It was like a burning desire to BEAT this thing. A burning drive that wanted to survive, that wanted something. What was I aiming for now? What was I aiming to achieve? Was this all just the start of dealing with my gender issues? Was this the way I should have done it oh so many years ago? I asked myself each of those questions, like a game show host throwing question after question at an off-balance contestant.

"How are you eating?"

The question refocused me. I answered automatically, allowing the simple question to draw me away from the more significant issue. "I really don't feel like eating usually, and besides, big meals are such a bother to make. Keep me in bread and butter, and I'm a happy camper."

"Well," She chuckled gently, "at least you're losing weight. What are your plans when you get out of here?"

I couldn't answer what I would do when I got out there. It didn't seem like I really cared. I wanted to live and fight, but something wouldn't let me look past that little area of living and fighting. Was there really any more to life than that?

"I don't know." I fight for my life, grades in class, my right to individuality. Was simply "Live and fight." a proper answer?

"Do you know the problem that caused you to get so depressed is?"

This one was easier to identify the answer to. I told the nurse about my Gender Issues, and she seemed to comprehend. She made sure I was aware of the pager and reminded me to call if I needed anything. Then she left.

Once she had left, I felt like getting out of bed. I noticed that my clothes were neatly folded on another of the grey chairs, sitting there waiting for me to get dressed. Slowly crawling out of the covers, I looked down at the white hospital gown I was in. It is funny, but if it had been in another place, wearing any type of gown would have been great, but in this place, it just seemed to remind me I was in a hospital. I hated it.

I slowly dressed while looking around the tiny pink and white room I would be calling home, at least for the day. It was strange seeing a dirty kind of pink in a hospital. It didn't really make me like the place either, even though pink is a colour I love. It didn't match the grey furniture that stood in the room. I smiled at the thought of sacking the person who painted the room. This room looked stupid.

I laughed. It felt good laughing at the stupid colour scheme of my room. Some pressure in my chest seemed to dissipate for the first time in over a week, I found something genuinely funny. I found something to take joy in, even if to mock the Hospital's pitiful attempt at relaxing their patients.

Slipping into my clothes and still amused at the décor, I actually felt ready to start the day properly with a nice cup of coffee. It was always the first thing on my morning list. I can't think how people operate without at least one cup of coffee in the morning. After the coffee, I knew I would have to call Duke and Lisa and tell them what had happened. I wondered if the crisis team had contacted them at all. The coffee suddenly became second on the list. Shit, I hadn't thought of them. Would they know that I was at the hospital? For all they could have known, I may have gone missing.

Panic filled me as I rushed into the hallway and caught myself. I stood there for a minute, calming myself down. I couldn't let the nurses and doctors see me running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I had to get out of here at some point over the next few days, and if they saw me panicking, they would have kept me in for longer. I looked down the hall and saw the sign that said "Office". Walking to the office, I knocked on the closed door and waited.

And waited

And waited.

I could see a male in there, through the small window on the door, but he just ignored the knock. I knocked again, this time more forceful. And waited.

"MY GOD…" I muttered under my breath. He was still not coming to the door. He hadn't even bothered to call, "It's open." This was stupid. I took hold of the door handle and opened the door. "Excuse me, I did knock," I said to the man sitting in a chair and chewing on something.

He snapped, sounding like one of those bimbo secretaries, speaking rote phrases with no concern. "What do you want?" He hadn't even turned to see me, his attention still on the magazine he was reading.

"Some manners to being with." I snapped back, my mind now set on making this nurse's job a bitch. "Just remember who pays your wages. Thank you."

The man turned to me and finally faced me. "Don't talk to me that way, you mental freak."

Oh, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who think they're better than others. It just makes me angry that people can be so cruel. Slowly, methodically, I pushed open the door and stepped into the office. This brought about a quick defensive reaction from the male nurse, and he jumped from his chair and stepped towards me, his fists drawn.

A smile came to my lips as I looked up at him. "You touch me, and you'll be hearing from the police," I informed him while I stood my ground in front of him. "And don't think I will not be reporting your attitude to the head nurse when I see her." I hadn't felt that forceful in a long time; it was like another valve had been released, allowing me to vent some of my pent-up anger and tension this time. "Now sit back down, read your magazine, and just tell me where I can find a phone!"

The man stopped in his tracks and looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I had suddenly felt terrible inside like I shouldn't have lashed out at him. Another rush of frustration overcame me, and I started to question myself again. Was that what a female would have done? Would a woman have flared up like that?

I felt like backing out of the office and running back to my bedroom crying. I had hurt this person's feelings, and that had hurt me. As he stood there, in dead silence, just staring at me, I felt like a ten-year-old who had just shouted at my father. I felt weak and sick inside.

Then he spoke, and as he opened his mouth, I thought of all the nasty things he could say to me, making me feel even worse. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have taken my bad mood out on you. I shouldn't have called you a mental freak." He looked uncomfortable and like someone who knew he had done wrong, or at least knew he could get in trouble for it. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There I was, questioning if I had done right or wrong, and all along, this man had wanted to say sorry.

"It's okay. Just tell me where the phone is." I asked, not trusting myself to push the matter any further.

"Up near the games and music room. In front of the games' room door." He told me, smiling. He must have thought it was over, that my "It's okay" signalled my willingness to let the matter drop. I thought about all the things I could do to hurt him. I stood there thinking of all the nasty stuff that would come from my complaining. Yet deep inside, I knew I wouldn't tell. I would let the whole thing go like I did with everything that caused confrontations in my life. I was too weak for long draw out fights; that was something I knew I would have to deal with later. But not now.

"Thanks," I muttered as I left the office, glad to be out of that situation. I closed the office door behind me and walked towards the sign, "GAMES / MUSIC ROOM."

As I reached the sign, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled my nostrils. I stopped dead in my tracks and suddenly found myself wondering whether calling my friends or having coffee was more important. There I was, in the middle of a hall in a mental ward of a hospital, and I was fighting between calling my FRIENDS or drinking bloody COFFEE! WHY COULDN'T I THINK STRAIGHT!!

I must have been looking really strange standing there frozen in the middle of the hall because as I stood transfixed there, a woman stepped up behind me and touched me on the shoulder.

I JUMPED…

I spun around and had come face to face with the nurse who had woken me up that morning. She was smiling at me and nodded. "The smell of the coffee?" she had asked with a cheeky grin on her face. "Don't worry; it does it every time, to everybody."

I nodded, but I didn't like how I felt. I didn't like this non-thinking state. I was someone who could make up my mind when I wanted to. When had this thick fog come over my mind, making it hard to sort out what I was thinking?

"I'm standing here debating if drinking coffee or calling my friends is more important. This is stupid. I can't make up my mind." I said in frustration, clearly distressed over my problem.

"Well, why do you want to ring your friends?" The nurse asked.

"So they know what happened to me, and so they can bring me some things," I replied. I remember feeling then that I was losing control again. I felt somehow panicked; I felt like this simple thought process was causing me more pain.

"You don't need to call Lisa. I called them this morning and explained you were here for a little while, and she told me she would bring some extra clothes and toiletries down for you also." The nurse said while placing her arm around my shoulders. "So, I suppose you'll just have to come and have a cup of coffee with me, then, won't you?"

I stood there blank-faced. The nurse had just solved my whole problem in one sentence, which made me feel like an idiot. It had made the situation seem so small, and maybe it had been. The problem now was. Why couldn't I think for myself? Why wasn't my mind working correctly, making choices instead of letting others do it? I nodded to the lovely nurse and let her guide me towards the lounge, where the smell of coffee was the strongest.

As we walked into the lounge, I noticed the colour scheme changed from pink to a light blue colour. Now, this colour scheme I liked better. The white top and blue bottom were more peaceful to me. Yet, I couldn't help but think that if they followed the principle that blue was for boys, and pink was for girls, the person who had painted this room was trying to make a silent statement that this room was meant for males only. I found myself smiling at the stupidity of that idea.

"What are you smiling at?" The nurse had asked while she took two cups from the shelves, above the metal bench that the coffee maker was on. I watched as she poured me a cup of hot brewed coffee. She pointed to the milk, and I nodded, then she pointed to the sugar, and I shook my head.

"The paint scheme in this place is... interesting," I said, taking the cup of coffee from her offering hand. "Thanks."

"Yes, when they did the pink rooms and halls, I wondered if they could get worse. Then I came in here, and they answered yes for me." She laughed, taking me over to one of the large sofas. I looked over the battered sofa; its grey and brown colour didn't match the blue and white walls and the orange and reddish carpet.

"I would sack the person who did the décor in this place." I now felt more relaxed. More at ease.

"I think they did." She laughed, and I followed with laughing also. It was like another break of the tension I was feeling. I could have shown I could feel my muscles in my neck and shoulders sighing and relaxing. I hadn't even realised I was feeling so tense and tight.

I took a sip of the coffee and felt the intense Brazil flavour tickle my taste buds. "Nice," I commented, taking another sip. "I didn't know mental wards had freshly brewed coffee. If I did, I would have got in here a long time ago."

"One of the bennies of the job." She said, taking a sip of her own coffee. "Oh, by the way, I'm Sue."

I smiled and nodded to her. I was glad she told me her name; I hate not including people's names while talking about them, and I don't think I wanted to know her as just "The nurse" for the rest of my stay. Also, saying their names makes them more real for me.

"Hello Sue, my name is Mattie." I smiled, took her extended hand and shook it.

"Mattie? Is that a way of kind of testing the waters?" She asked.

"Not really. My female name is Malisa. However, since I've been having so many problems with my gender, I needed a name that others would feel more comfortable with. Mattie can be a female or male nickname, so I feel more comfortable with Mattie than Matthew. Even though numerous people seem to identify it as more feminine first." I explained it slowly, wondering if it was coming out correctly.

I remember one of my lecturers asking me the same thing. It was like a tricky question to answer. "I want to use Malisa in real life, which is the name I like and feel is my REAL name, but I have to use a name that won't disturb others' sensibilities. Even though people keep saying, 'Do what you feel comfy with.', I still have to get on in society. A male named Malisa Sophia Powell doesn't sound like it would go down very well with someone who..." I didn't feel I needed to finish that; after all, why state the obvious.

She asked a question I hadn't been expecting. "Well, why not Malisa?"

"Pardon?" I asked in disbelief. Couldn't she see me? How could she ask that? I looked like a damn male. I had a balding hairstyle, for Christ’s sake.

"Why not use Malisa? It's a beautiful name." She was saying it like it was stupid to think otherwise. This didn't feel right. She was making me think again.

"Because I don't look like a Malisa," I told her. Her look changed to something more of confusion.

"So because you don't look exactly like a woman, you can't have a feminine name?" She finally said while looking to me for the answer.

I had heard it so many times before. A few of my woman's studies lecturers or classmates had said the same thing. "You are hoping for gender and sex equality, and yet you are saying that only a woman can use a female sounding name." And the same feeling I had with them saying it happened with Sue.

I shook my head and smiled at Sue. "I don't think it would work. I don't think society isn't ready for a Malisa just yet, especially one who looks like me. If I were to walk around and call myself Malisa while still living and looking male? No, I think that would cause more danger than being in this ward."

I paused a moment, taking a sip of my coffee, and continued, "I also don't know if even I am ready for a Malisa just yet." I knew inside that I wanted to be ready. Shit! If someone offered the chance to physically change sexes now, I would. But reality doesn't provide magical solutions. So, as I am right now. Could I do it? Could I start dressing like a woman? Wearing a wig?

Was it possible for me to live as a woman, with the high probability of being hurt when someone pointed me out and called, "Look, there's a transsexual"?

I want to avoid being seen as a Transsexual. I want to be seen as a woman. I knew that, and it was like all or nothing for me. Like this whole thing is not about being TS, but being a woman.

"In time, you will feel like society can screw itself, Mattie." She had started to explain. "And when you do, you'll use the name that you feel is right for you. I think your friends will back you up and help you out where they can."

I remember feeling like she didn't seem to understand, but now after really thinking about what she had said, I wonder if she did know. Could I start using Malisa? If I made it that my name was now Malisa Sophia Powell, would there be any problem? I would like to explore it, but I'm too scared to. Maybe, I'll talk about it with my counsellor. Perhaps I'll talk about it with my friends? Perhaps I will do what I usually do, ignore it and hope it will all just go away, and the pain will finally go with it.

"So, how do you feel inside?" She had asked, breaking me out of thoughts about the name issue.

"What do you mean?" I asked again.

"What is the gender you feel inside?" She asked while taking another sip of her coffee.

I felt like she was trying to make me explode with emotion. How could I answer that one? I didn't know what gender I felt inside. How could I know if I felt like a woman? I didn't have a female background, nor did I have a female body. Shit! How did a woman know if they felt like a woman or not?

"I identify with women. I identify with a female status." I said, hoping that was enough. It wasn't.

"Yes, but how do you know what you are feeling isn't just the feminine side of your being?" She wasn't making this easy on me. In fact, I was starting to wonder if coffee had been the better choice.

"I don't. But let me throw it back at you. How do you know what you feel is like what other women feel like?" I felt better as she had nodded and sprouted another of those cheeky grins on her face.

"You are so right. So, how does it feel to you?" Oh, this one was good. I didn't know if she tried to make me think or defend myself. Either way, she had started me thinking straight again, even though I felt like I was defending myself. Defending who I thought I was.

"The only real way I can tell you how it feels is from something I read a while ago." I started to say, only to have her butt in.

"No, I don't want to hear the technical terms. I don't want to hear how others feel. I want to know how you feel, your words."

I was knocked back. I hadn't been attacked like that before. I had always included other people's words in describing how I had felt. I had always used other people to back up what I was saying. Now I had to think about my feelings myself, placing them into words I didn't know. I felt another lump form in my throat, but I answered.

"I sit here, talking to you, and even though you are making me think, making me defend myself, I feel like I am a part of womanhood. The way you talk to me isn't like you would talk to a male, maybe. It is hard to explain, but there is a difference when you are a man or accepted as a woman. I watch women in women's space at university, and I listen to them talking about issues I would love to be included in. I suddenly realise that I am a male, and they don't talk to me directly - I am just a spare wheel. Maybe this is my problem? Maybe I'm cutting myself off from them, as maybe because I don't have my history of being a woman, I am struggling to engage as a woman."

I paused a moment while staring down at my coffee. I had hoped Sue would just say she understood, but the silence was evidence she wanted me to continue. I felt like I wasn't explaining myself. How do you explain how you think you can't relate to something but believe in all your heart you are.

"I talk to people in a store, and they call me 'sir', and I feel like they have just called insulted me. I sit in my classes, women's studies and all the other classes and wish that all the others in the class could see me as a woman. Instead, I am the token male to call on when needing a second opinion. I watch how men look at women and wish I could be looked at that way. I know it undermines women, but not getting them reminds me I am not a target for that disgraceful act. I have feelings of sex, of love, of life, even my interests don't match the body I am in." I stopped and looked at Sue, my eyes hurting from new tears that were falling. "I wish I were you or any other woman in this world. No matter if she was the most unattractive or the most beautiful woman in the world. At least I would be a woman."

She nodded, lowering her eyes to her coffee cup. She seemed to be taken back from the power of the words I had used. She took another sip from her coffee mug. I placed the tip of my cup in my mouth, feeling the warmth of the coffee filling my mouth, and then I thought of something else as it popped into my mind. "If I could, I would get rid of these feelings," I said, wondering if that was the right thing to say.

"Really?" She asked, sounding like she didn't believe me.

I paused while thinking, then finally I chuckled, "No." I said, knowing full well that I had been wrong.

"I didn't think so. That would be like someone making me think I was a man. It would be like killing me." She said, explaining it just the way I felt inside. I nodded.

"You know you are the first person I haven't used other people's words to explain how I feel. I hope I explained how I felt okay." I had a feeling that I hadn't done a good enough job. I felt as if there was more than I could place into words. It felt that articulating my feelings into words made them seem small and easy to deal with. They aren't.

"You explained yourself well. I could see how you feel from those words better than if you had drawn me a picture. I feel that there is a young woman trapped inside you. A young woman who has never been able to live, grow, and explore life as a woman. She is screaming for release, and you can't hide that, Ma... lisa." I didn't know how to feel about her using that name. I felt great that she wanted to use it, but I couldn't accept that people would use that name without problems. She looked down at her watch and shook her head. "I'm going to have to go, but I would love to talk to you again. Where are you going to be in about two hours?"

I quickly thought about it. Wow, now Sue wanted me to plan... I had only just enough energy to even talk about the present, let alone think about my schedule for the day. I wanted to create something. I felt all this creative power building up inside, and there was nothing to let it out on. Then I remembered Sue telling me before about the piano. It had been ages since I had created a music piece on a piano. I knew then that I was going to create something. "Playing on the piano," I replied.

"You play?" Sue asked, a little surprised.

"If you call it playing, I suppose you could say that," I answered, finishing the remainder of my coffee. "Self-taught."

"Wonderful. Then in two hours, I'll be able to hear you." She said, getting up from the sofa and stretching. Sue turned back to me and had given me one of those warm smiles of hers. "I'll see you then." I rose from the sofa as she started away.

"It's a date." I smiled as we left the lounge.

CHAPTER SIX
Moments of Music

As I walked into the music room, I could feel a rush of excitement with the thought of playing a real piano again. It must have been three years since the last time my fingers had stretched out to caress the cool keys of a piano.

I saw the upright piano sitting in the back of the room. It seemed to call out to me, wanting me to touch it, make music with it. I walked over towards it, hoping and praying that it would be in tune. I pulled out the piano stool and sat down in front of the lovely polished wooden piano.

My fingers softly ran over the keys, touching each one without pushing them down to make a noise. Then spreading out my fingers, I played the C major chord. Next came a quick scale up and down several octaves, confirming that the piano was tuned to perfection.

Here I was, sitting in front of the first tuned piano in four years. And, all I needed to do to get in front of it was have a massive mental breakdown... if it hadn't felt so pathetic, I would have laughed.

But it wasn't just the piano that felt suddenly too good to be true. I had had an excellent talk with a woman who seemed to understand me. I had even had one of the best cups of coffee I had ever tasted, yet, I was in a hospital, hell a mental ward at that! This wasn't how I visioned any possible stay in such a place.

Finally, I pushed the uneasiness back. I could feel the creative energy inside me, wanting to escape. The power took over, and my fingers started playing across the piano keys like I used to when I was a child.

It didn't take very long until my song, my piece, had started taking shape and controlling where it was to head.

While I played, I failed to notice that someone walked into the music room, listening to my music. She'd been so quiet, and I so absorbed that, until I had finally heard soft crying behind me, I hadn't realised she was there. I craned my neck around, my hands still occupied by the creative music.

A woman, probably in her later thirties, stood there while I played my piece. She was dressed like most inmates, a software pair of tracksuit pants and a t-shirt which was tight enough to show her more ample bosom. She was short, probably around between 140 and 150 centimetres, and a little stocky but seeming so fragile and lithe at the same time. Her face looked torn, sad, her green eyes glimmering from the tears that were flowing down her rosy cheeks, while strands of her long red hair also seemed to cake to her face when hitting the wet tears.

I stopped, but she shook her head.

"Please, finish it." Her voice was needful, wanting.

I had sat there for a second, looking at her, not knowing what to do. I had never had this happen to me before. It felt like a scene out of a movie. I felt overly self-conscious like I was causing this woman's pain. Still, from the tone of her voice, I knew that the request had come from the heart. I turned back to the piano, my hands and soul finishing off the piece I had started to create.

Bringing the piece to a close, my hands held the final chord, allowing it to fade naturally. The stranger was still behind me, weeping softly. As I swung about on the bench, she came into my arms, hugging me tightly. As she cried in my arms, I whispered that it was all right. I felt strangely awkward as if another circle was being closed. Only yesterday, someone was holding me while I cried, and feeling this woman's cry for help made me feel like maybe there was some reason all this chaos had happened to me over the weekend.

"I'm sorry." She had said as she moved out of my arms, her fingers wiping away tears from her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. I should be sorry. I didn't think my piano playing was that bad." I said, smiling at her. She smiled and sat on one of the plastic chairs littered the room. Her eyes looked up at mine, their soft blueness like pools of water. "May I ask why you were crying?" I asked, hoping that Callahan's Law (Shared pain is lessened; shared joy is increased.) would hold. Don't they have staff for situations like this, I wondered?

"You play like my boyfriend used to."

"Used to?" She nodded gravely. "How long ago did he pass away?" I was playing on thin ice here, and I knew it. I didn't want to sound like a counsellor, but I somehow felt I had to help her out. I don't know why I linked her comment as he had died, but it just seemed to fit.

"A year ago." She started crying again, and this time she flung herself into my arms for support. I should have felt uncomfortable, but I didn't. Holding her, I felt calm. Here was a human being who needed my help, if only for the moment.

Finally, she settled back down again but never left my arms, as if wanting me to cradle her as we continued to talk.

She explained how lost she'd felt after her boyfriend's death. How she'd tried many times to deal with it, but she couldn't seem to let it go. Just when she thought she had got control of the feelings, she would lose control again, falling into deep despair.

"I just wish that there was some way I could get rid of these feelings of loss. They are just always there, and I don't want to feel them any more. She had told me, again her eyes filling with tears.

"You will; I can feel it." As she cried again, I tried to comfort her as best I could.

She looked up at me and kissed me on the lips. I felt a rush of panic overcome me. Could this, should this, be happening? I pulled away from her quickly as if getting an electric shock. She just looked up at me from my arms and smiled at me. Pulling away, she got up walked away, not saying a word.

I sat there, stunned at what had just happened. It was beyond belief. I am Bisexual, so nothing was confusing me with my transsexual problem. Not what was bothering me was that this woman I had only just met had suddenly, without provocation, kissed me! Hell, I didn't even know her name yet! I knew that this was probably because of her emotional state, but didn't this type of thing only happen in stories or movies?

I looked back at the piano, not really knowing what else I could do. Where was all this confusion and strangeness leading to, and why?

"Mattie?" I had heard Sue's voice calling out behind me. I turned and saw her standing at the music room door. "Lunch is up, and I was thinking you could keep me company while we eat."

I nodded, knowing that she had managed to tell me what I was doing while making me feel if I didn't go with her, I would be hurting her feelings. Shit, this woman was good.

I got up from the piano stool and walked over to her. As I passed, she smiled at me, winking and following up beside me.

"You know, you certainly have a way of asking someone to do something without giving them a choice," I stated as we passed the lounge.

"That is why I have this job." She had laughed.

The lunchtime conversation went mainly along with our talk over morning coffee. Sue's intuitive questions continued to make me think about what I really wanted in life and where I wanted to go. However, the crying woman from the piano room had been on my mind throughout the whole lunch conversation.

I didn't know how I should have felt about it. I didn't know whether to say anything to Sue about it or not. If I said anything, would the woman get in trouble? Would I? Had I allowed it to happen and thus taken advantage of her distress? Did I even know it would have happened? Was there any indication I missed or purposely ignored?

So, I didn't say anything, and a part of me was glad about that. But another part realised I hadn't given Sue the chance to help me, meaning I had allowed myself to think of others (the distressed woman) before I had looked out for my own problems.

While noshing a nice ham and cheese sandwich, another ward's nurses came into the lounge and called out my name. I raised my hand, and she told me there was a phone call from Christopher for me.

I knew he had called to check up on me. It suddenly reminded me that even though this place had some remarkable thing in it, it was still a hospital! I needed to tell him that I wanted out of there as soon as possible.

Excusing myself from the table, I made a beeline for the phone. When I got there, the office transferred the call through to me.

"Hi, Mattie." Christopher's voice came out like an anchor to the outside world. It was a nice feeling, knowing that people were still interested in me. Even though I felt like a mental case.

"Christopher, thank god," I replied.

"How are you doing?" He had asked, sounding a little worried.

"I'm okay, but hospitals drive me batty, Christopher." I wasn't really feeling that bad about this ward, but I knew I would if I had to stay in here. "When can I get out?"

"Okay, Mattie. We will see how you feel tomorrow, and we'll go from there. Understand that you were admitted last night under doctor's orders. You will have to be checked out by a doctor before letting you leave the hospital. So, let's work on getting you better, okay? Do you still feel like killing yourself?"

I had known Christopher would ask that question, but I knew I needed out of this hospital. I lied again. "No, I'm fine now," I said, knowing full well that I would do it if pressed too hard again. Even if it meant my life, I couldn't take the chance of losing my liberty, even in pleasant surroundings.

"Fine, though after what happened yesterday, I am not fully convinced. If you still feel that way tomorrow, I'll talk to the doctor for you. You have a great night, okay?"

"Okay," I said, then placed the receiver down. I walked back to the lounge, a little dejected. I had hoped that talking to Christopher would have got me released, and I could escape this gelded cage. But he had just reinforced what I already knew. I had been so deep in my anxiety yesterday that I needed to be here; I needed to take time away from the hustle and bustle of real life.

After getting a coffee and not finding Sue in the lounge, I asked the office for some pen and paper. I wanted to start writing down what was happening. I had created something on the piano, but now my first love, writing, wanted to be employed.

For the next three hours, I rested in my bedroom and wrote. My feelings, emotions, thoughts all flowed from my mind to the paper. Again, writing was a release that helped me explore my feelings and ideas.

I didn't have a tangible goal; I was still very lost, directionless inside. My gender, life, everything seemed to be ganging up on me. Things I had ignored and pushed aside, even though they are still here inside me now, even as I wrote, were more potent than ever.

At the mental ward, I was too weak to control the feelings and the pain. I understood that being here would get me help that allowed me to recover from my present situation and that my pain would slowly go away, yet those thoughts didn't seem to comfort me.

After about three hours of writing on the paper they had given me, I heard someone shout out the dinner was up. I didn't feel that hungry. Yet, while writing, I had been thinking about the girl who had cried in the piano room. So, I figured I could meet up with her again at dinner.

Well, I didn't have to wait till I got to the lounge. I bumped into the mystery woman in the hallway, walking out of my room.

I said, "Hey," trying to seem like I hadn't been hoping to see her again.

"Hi." She smiled back at me. "You're going for dinner?"

I nodded, and before I could say another word, she spoke again. "Well, you can keep me company then, can't you?"

What was it in that ward? People just seemed to naturally tell me what to do, casually glazed like some type of question.

"Okay," I said as I followed her to the lounge. "Oh, by the way, my name is Mattie."

She turned and smiled at me, "I'm Sara." Well, that was the start of a... let's say, "interesting friendship" that I had in the ward. But I'm jumping the gun.

Sara and I had spoken about a lot during our dinner together. Mainly all about me. Even though I tried to turn the conversation back to her, she was more interested in my problems this time.

She had asked why I was in, and even though I liked her, I didn't know if telling her about my gender problem was such a great idea. Not just yet anyway.

"Um, does the food get better in here?" I asked, changing the subject. It was my worse subject change yet, and she picked up on it like a hawk spotting a mouse in a field.

"You need a lot of work on changing the subject, Mattie. You're supposed to make it look like you hadn't changed the subject." I laughed and nodded, knowing she was right.

"Depression. I had a bad...," How could I say anything without making her wonder what the matter was? She had looked at me with her lovely blue eyes, waiting for the rest to come out. There I was, unable to really finish what I was about to say. Damn this fog. I couldn't seem to think straight past this bloody fog in my mind. "I had given up on life on Sunday. For some reason, I got enough to hold of my emotions and feelings to call my counsellor, who in turn called the crisis team."

Whew, I had got it out and none too soon. I felt like I was about to break down and cry. This was stupid. No, not stupid, frustrating. It was like the pain that was inside me had dulled my mind.

"I see. So, you tried to kill yourself too?" She asked. I had nodded and then shrugged while taking another bite of the meal. God, I wish I hadn't. It was the worst and stringiest beef I had ever eaten. How could a place with the best coffee in the world have meat that tasted like it was ten years old?

"This is terrible, you know." Indicating the food. I looked up at Sara and smiled. Sara tried very hard to keep her smile down but failed and finally laughed. There we were, in the lounge, surrounded by people with various problems, laughing. Some looked at us confused, and then they followed and laughed along even though they had no idea of the joke.

Finally putting down the fork, with the bad evil beef on it, I looked at her, "I didn't attempt, I suppose. I had a plan, I was going to do it, but something stopped me. I just couldn't seem to go through with it. In a way, it gave me time to call someone for help."

Sara nodded, chewing on a piece of carrot. I expected her to talk about herself or how she had come to be in the ward, but she just moved on to other topics. And we indeed spoke on so many issues; life, to the colour of her nail polish, which had been a lovely reddish-pink, the way TV was so dull, our favourite types of music.

Finally, after about two hours of conversing, she had to leave to get her medicine. The nurses and doctors had placed her on two Prozac a day, while I only needed the one.

I left the lounge with another cup of coffee and headed back to my room. The time had flown by, and I really couldn't believe that it was ten in the evening. Where had the day gone to? I wasn't that tired, even though there had been a lot to tire me out that day. From Sue to Sara, and the way Sara made me feel. It was strange, but I had felt a building affection for Sara and sympathy for her plight. She was a wonderful person, and if there was a way to help her get over the pain of her loss, I would try to help her with it.

I lay down on my bed and started writing again. I hadn't even gotten past the first part of Sunday's breakdown; it was so hard to let the emotions come to the surface again, so soon. Yet, it was helping to write. It made the problem look smaller (and "it", the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, was indeed minor), but the emotions it struck into were the real problem. It wasn't the stupid note from some love-struck boy or his tugging at the part of me that wanted more than anything to be the woman he described. But, instead, it was all the feelings of inadequacy that came flooding over me; inadequacies caused through an accident during my creation; inadequacies that were driving this pain.

While writing, someone had knocked on my door, and looking at the time, I was shocked to see it was midnight. Shit, I had been writing for two hours. Who could be knocking on my door at twelve in the morning? I got up and opened the bedroom door to see Sara standing there in her dressing gown.

"Sara?" I was stunned.

I had never been in this situation before. It was like another scene out of a movie. I had this girl standing before me, at the entrance of my door. My mind raced with thoughts and situations that could be coming from this. Did she need support? Was this some attempt to sleep with me... what the hell was I thinking?! Would I say yes if she asked me?

No! I calmed myself and tried to clear my head of all the thoughts and instead asked, "Are you okay?"

"Hi. I wanted to shower, but I couldn't get a nurse to look over me. Rules state that I need someone to be in the shower room while I shower. I would wait until later, but I feel... I feel I need to relax. I was wondering if you could help me and be in there for me if I need help."

I was stunned, shocked. My mouth dropped like a brick, and I was lost for words. "Um... Do you think that's a good idea? Me being... um, male and all?" I stated, hating myself for pointing out my flaws. I felt very much that being male was a flaw, preventing me from living the life I wanted, that I dreamed about.

"No, it is okay." She had answered, maybe a little too fast. "Please." Oh, there was that needful voice, the one that could almost melt the coldest of hearts. The one that would win over any common sense I might have every time.

"All right." I had surrendered to her, but really while thinking about it now. I really didn't put up much of a fight.

Sara took me by the hand and walked me to the Women's showers. As she opened the door, I had one of those panicked feelings again.

Was this right? I wouldn't have even wondered if I was able to concentrate. The fog that STILL had a hold of my mind was trying to block out the inconsistencies in Sara's story. This wasn't just an ordinary hospital ward, where you'd expect to find several nurses on duty at all times; it was a psychiatric ward. You shouldn't be able to walk three paces without running into someone, especially at night when many people have at least some problems and nightmares, and the crying or painful emotions have time to cry into your brain.

There was a stool in the shower room, presumably for people keeping an eye on patients needing supervision. I quickly walked across towards it and sat resolutely facing the wall. I sat there, instantly taking my mind off Sara, using the tiles as a study focus. This was so damn confusing.

Strangely, I felt like a lesbian sitting there. I am a woman (Screw that last gene!) and getting confused and somewhat sexually aroused by another woman.

This whole situation screamed setup to me, but at the same time, I didn't sense that Sara was the one to do that. Was she attracted to me? And if she was, was she attracted to me as a bloody male, or to the woman that was trapped inside this shell of an existence!

Everything was perplexing! And it continued to heavily remind me that I was different from regular women. I couldn't have a normal lesbian relationship, the difference that women loving women could have. Both parties' sensations are as givers, the coupling and touching that comes with both being of the same body, the same sex, compared to the idea that I would be seen as the one who was to take and invade their body during the intercourse.

And at the same time, as though thoughts came, I chastised myself for even having them. This was not the time and place for these thoughts! I was in a bloody mental ward, in the woman's bathroom, looking out for someone, so they didn't do something to hurt themselves! Great fucking nurse I would be!

"You don't have to look away from me." She said while I heard her turn on the shower behind where I sat, facing a bare grey and pink tile wall.

"It's okay, I'm shy," I replied, trying to keep my attention on the small gaps in the caking between tiles.

I heard her step into the shower as the sound of the watering hitting the tiled floor shifted and altered, splashing around the open shower cubical.

"You know," she stated as I could hear moving under the jet streams of water, "you're interesting. You're a man, yet I feel you are different from other men. Very different. I wonder, why is that?"

Sara's question caught me by surprise. How could I answer that question without lying? This probably wasn't the right time to get into my whole gender identity issue; I mean, I was supposed to be here to help protect her, not share my own tragic story. After all, I felt like I had repeated it so much in the last couple of days that I was uncertain if I could stomach saying any more.

"I'm Just special, I guess," I answered, making it sound like I didn't know what she was on about.

"Oh." I heard her say as she moved around in the shower.

I started to ignore the cracks in the wall as I listened to her. She asked me questions about where I was born, what I did. She'd evidently decided to find out what it was that made me different again, repeating the question as to why I didn't feel like other men she knew.

I felt like telling her, but I couldn't. There was some feeling inside that told me, don't. I couldn't complicate this, not right now, not in this situation. I just wanted to help to get out of this circumstance as soon as possible. Even my arousal had disappeared as I realised how surreal this situation came to me. Was I dreaming?

"Can you wash my back, please?"

I didn't know what to say. That question had come totally out of the blue, like a bolt of lightning. I stuttered, trying to reply.

Then I felt wet hands touching my shoulders. I knew that turning around would have placed me face to face with Sara's... well, you know. But that thought didn't stop me. I instantly turned and quickly looked straight up at her face, trying hard to ignore the naked female breasts whose nipples stood erect towards me. Okay, sue me, I glanced a look.

"I like you, and I know you like me. I can feel it. However, there is something different. It doesn't feel like any attraction to a man I have had before. Somehow I know being with you will be different, new. Something I really want to explore with you."

While she told me this, I had just stared at her. God, I was so confused. Yep, there was no denying it; I was attracted to her but was it male or female attraction. I wanted her, but I felt torn that in trying to go beyond that want, into having, I would be just... another guy!

She took hold of my hands, then pulled me up from the stool. As I rose, I felt her breasts push against my clothed chest. I didn't have time to undress as she dragged me willingly into the shower along with her. The water was warm and instantly saturated my clothes. She had helped me quickly take my clothes off, and naked, together, we started to kiss.

There we stood for what seemed like hours kissing deeply under the warm water. I felt my body shiver with excitement and sexual, passionate energy. My eyes were closed, and I felt Sara's arms pull me closer to her. It surprised me that she had so much strength. I outweighed her by a good number of kilos, and I certainly stood taller than her, and yet, this small stature of a woman pulled me close to her as if I was as light as a feather.

As Sara pulled me further into her embrace, I felt my chest crushed against hers, pushing my flesh firmly back against my chest. A small sharp pain travelled through my nipples as they rubbed against her, and I felt a pressure that I hadn't felt before. I felt her hand gently run down my spine, gently caressing the top of my bottom. This sent shivers through my body, which I couldn't remember feeling so strongly before.

She brushed my hair back as she caressed my face while her tongue danced against my moist lips and then back deep inside as passionately kissed.

I felt something pushing against my crotch. It was stiff, firm, and warm to the touch. Its tip pushed forward and up and touched something in my groin that opened slightly, sending more powerful shivers through me as it rubbed against the opening's lining. I wanted that firm thing inside me; I wished there was a way for it to push its way inside me. I needed to feel it in me!

I opened my legs slightly, and Sara, still holding me by my sides, lifted me up slightly. Then slowly, with such ease, she lowered me down so that her firm member pushed into the opening in my groin. I didn't know what to feel then, but somehow, I knew what had happened. Somehow, we had switched bodies.

It was my wish, come true; I was physically female, and it felt so right!

I felt at home.

Sara, who was now in my old male body, kissed my nipples, making me moan softly. I hoped no one heard us, as I had not wanted the feeling of being a woman, being me, to disappear.

Slowly we made love, moving from the wall to the shower floor. All the time, my eyes were closed, not wanting to see if it was just my imagination. I wanted it to be honest, to be authentic.

I was in heaven, and I didn't want anything to pull me back down into reality!

The force of Sara's thrusts increased, and with each thrust, a slight tingle shot through my body. I felt myself getting closer and closer to something that felt like an explosion inside me. We hadn't spoken throughout the whole experience of lovemaking. There hadn't been a need for words.

Suddenly Sara, in a male's voice (Do I really sound like that?), let out a soft moan, and I felt her final pushes become more profound, more powerful. I felt another thrust, this one ramming far into my vagina, pushing against my inner walls. I felt a sudden build-up of tension as Sara released her semen into my body.

My own body shook, and I started to scream with pleasure as my own orgasm came over me in waves of pleasure. My lover's hand gently came over my mouth, cutting off my screams. I felt out of control as my body spasmed around Sara's Penis.

After that powerful moment, Sara had lowered me off her and placed me on the wet floor, where we kissed, touched, and caressed each other. Finally, knowing it would mean the doom of this imagination-filled fantasy, I opened my eyes. I felt so happy to see a man lying down next to me, the water of the shower falling over his body, as his hands played softly over my exposed breasts.

"Welcome to wonderland." Sara, in that male body, said. "I was wondering when you would open your eyes."

"I didn't want this body, this feeling, to go away," I said to her. My body felt right; it felt correct. Before, my male body and internal self didn't feel connected; I felt whole with this body. I felt womanhood. I knew I would be accepted, seen as a woman. I knew I would feel like I fit in because I could now see myself as a true woman. Not some male outer shell that was hiding the woman inside it. That moment, in Sara's body, I felt complete.

I was Whole.

We spoke after, and I told her all about how I had wanted to be a woman since I was about seven or eight. I explained what had happened to me, how all of my issues had built up and finally brought me into this mental ward.

Then the wonder of the whole situation finally made me ask how had this all happened, was this forever? How would we change back? Did I have to switch back?

The out pour of questions was silenced as Sara chuckled and put her new, male fingers to my mouth. She followed the finger with a soft kiss and then answered, "The most you need to know is that this is magic, this is a wonderland, and at this moment, you got your dream. You got to feel that balance when your inner and outer match. Maybe this is your mind wanting you to know that who you are on the inside isn't fake, and it needs and wants to feel connected."

I felt a strange, sudden lethargy come over me as we spoke. It was like the Sandman had thrown not just dust in my eyes but the whole flaming bag. I noticed that Sara had the same tired look.

Slowly Sara rose from the floor and helped me up. Again, I couldn't believe how light I felt as he pulled me up with ease, even though I was sure my body was nearly close to collapsing from the sudden tiredness that came over me.

I looked down at my body. It was perfect to me; it had been everything I had ever dreamed, and more. But my tiredness robbed me from really having the energy to explore what this new body meant to me or how I really felt being encased in this female flesh.

"I think I need to go to bed," I said, picking up my/Sara's female clothes.

"I think I will as well. It would be better if you went to my room and me to yours. Since it looks like we now have each other's lives." It would have been about then that I realised that Sara would now have to be a man. I asked her how she had felt about that.

She smiled, her male lips raising slightly. "My dear. This feels wonderful. I have all the power that I want in my life. I can now be free of something that I couldn't be in that body. I can be free of my boyfriend's death. I don't know why, but the pain is gone, and if I need to be a man to live without it. So be it."

I rushed into his arms then, kissing him on the lips. This was so wonderful. I would be a female, and he would stay the male. I had never felt so happy in my whole life. I knew then that he and I would become very close.

I didn't even question her logic; how could being in my old male body fix her feelings of losing her boyfriend? Emotions of loss weren't gender-specific, but my haze, euphoria, and tiredness took a toll on my thoughts and logical mind.

I dressed in the nightie Sara had brought to the showers with her, feeling the cool fabric collapse down my body and setting on my breasts. Then I helped Sara dress in a couple of dry towels and wrapped his wet clothes into another towel. When had I started calling him... he? Was I so accepting of this strange, wonderful reality? This all made no sense, but I couldn't... no, I wouldn't question it; questioning it could quickly bring this whole wonderful new life crumbling down around me.

Then with our last kiss for the night, I walked to my new room. It was a wonderful feeling, lying down on the bed, the soft nightie flowing over my smooth body. I caressed my body through the soft satin, feeling its smooth surface against my skin. Then my exhaustion won, and I slept the best sleep I had ever had.

And I dreamed beautiful dreams of my new life as a woman.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The End of Moments

As the morning woke me, I knew right away that something was wrong. Without moving my body, I felt the disconnection once again. I threw aside my sheets and looked down at my MALE body.

"NO!" I protested; my wish had not been fulfilled after all. It had been some type of bloody dream. DAMN IT!

I ripped apart the white hospital pyjama top, the buttons flying around the bed and floor. Staring at my chest, I saw no large, firm, red nipples that should have lain atop soft breasts. I reached down and lifted the elastic of the pyjama bottoms and shuttered as the conclusive evidence lay between my legs. I screamed as I punched the mattress.

There was a knock at the door. Releasing the elastic and looking up from my disappointment, I saw Sara staring through the window. I nodded to her, and she walked in; she looked happy yet saddened as well. "Mattie?"

I nodded, suddenly knowing then that the whole experience had been more than my own dream. "You remember?" I asked, hoping that she understood what I was asking.

"Yes. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. The entire experience has helped me so much. I feel centred and able to look past the grief as I feel I have accepted it. It feels so great back in my body, feeling at ease for the first time." She paused, looking worried at me. "But you? Will you be okay?"

How could be in my body have done this for her? Being male should make dealing with loss any easier. All I had ever done is be able to do is..., and then it clicked. It wasn't in my body that had done it but my mind. My way of seeing my problems, compartmentalising them up, and even pushing them away was something I had trained all my life to do. And while now things were out of control, and I was finding it hard to move items into the overflowing boxes in my head, for Sara, that had been something she probably had never been able to do.

The gift I had given her, the one that now allowed her to push back the intractable pain she felt at her boyfriend's death, was me learning that I couldn't control all of my emotions, so it was sometimes easier to hide them away.

But when I thought about what she had gotten out of the whole experience, I too realised I had been given a gift. For I, for as brief as it had been, had my wish answered.

I finally knew, with more certainty than ever before, deep inside me, that being a man was wrong. That somehow Mother Nature had mucked up and had placed my mind and soul into the wrong body. At that one moment of madness, there was no confusion. I was Malisa, and inside I was a woman. I AM a woman! All I had to do was change the body to connect to the soul. Easier said than done, but it WOULD be done.

I finally nodded, and Sara and I spoke. I explained that while it was a great skill to push things into boxes, she also needed to face them, answer them, and resolve them, else she would be back in this place like I was now. And at the same time, she explained that being a woman wasn't all roses and chocolates and that there was so much I would have to learn and accept in my journey.

We both didn't know what happened, and even to her, the whole experience had felt like some extraordinary dream, but one that she believed she needed to have, to help her, but also help me.

It was funny, but sitting there, me almost naked, and her still in that nightie I remember putting on last night and being so comfortable in, there was no sexual attraction or desires like the dream we had shared. It was like we were back to being friends, though now with a deeper connection than any I had ever had before with anyone else.

We tried to explain how the dream might have happened, even if it had been a dream or real, but there was just no way of knowing. We had shared something outside our understanding, and the most we could just comprehend was that it had been for our benefit.

After our brief talk, Sara had left to request that she wanted to go back home. The nurses were more than happy to get the doctor to check her over, and that day the doctor had no problems and discharged her.

I still had to wait for Christopher to be able to talk to me. However, I felt that I would be able to fight now. I knew who I was, which was fifty percent of my battle won. The rest could never be won inside the mental ward of a hospital.

It didn't take long for the nurses to finally get sick of my moaning to see Christopher, and finally (only taking three hours of moaning), I got my meeting.

Christopher escorted me to his private office, where we talked about feelings. I had told him about the dream and how Sara and I felt so strong after it. He smiled, telling me that strange things sometimes happen, but it would have been my subconscious that was sorting out my emotions for me. Sometimes, the dream world can sort out things for us that we can't do by ourselves. Though he did admit, Sara's recovery was already underway many days before my arrival. Still, the sudden shift in her feelings and confidence was only after she and I had talked, so he felt that maybe I had been good for her also.

I didn't know. I felt that it had been more than just a dream. Something about that place had fulfilled Sara's wish and mine. She had wished to get help removing the pain of her boyfriend's death, and I had wanted to be a female and understand what was right for me. Now I knew.

The rest of the interview with Christopher had been about me getting out of the ward. Christopher had spoken to the doctor and told him that I should go home in the afternoon. The doctor agreed, and Christopher called my friends to pick me up. He had arranged for them to pick me up at about five in the evening.

After the meeting with Christopher, I had walked back to my room. Still thinking about the strange night I'd had. I wrote it all down, again trying to catch my feelings and emotions as they had happened.

That had taken me to around 3.00pm. I had heard during that time, Sara would be going home. I didn't really want to say farewell. So, I had walked out of my bedroom and headed for the locked side exits of the ward.

Sara and I had not spoken since the morning. It was like we had shared something that was beyond words. I couldn't say if it had been a shared dream or if it had been real. However, the impact of the whole experience had changed Sara's life and my own. It had given me the insight I needed, so I knew where I was to head.

I stood, looking out one of the side exits to the ward, watching as Sara walked out of the hospital ward towards a car parked in the lot. An older looking man (her father?) followed close behind her. As I stood there, I couldn't help but feel that she was escaping with my body. Something I knew I should have, something I knew I required.

The man opened the door on the passenger's side, and Sara paused before getting in. She stopped, turned around and faced me. Our eyes touched briefly, and Sara mouthed silently, "Thank you."

I smiled and felt a slight tear welling in my eye. This time, I wouldn't cry in pain but with joy. I'd learned so much, and I had been able to help another too. "Ditto," I whispered back.

She turned back to the car and got inside. I smiled and turned myself. I heard the car start behind me as I had walked back into the hallway. I had tears falling down my eyes by the time I got back to my room, where I packed to leave as well.

Well, Diary, that is about where I will finish. The rest isn't worth really writing, as all I did until five o'clock was write down what had happened. My friends were collected me dead at five o'clock, and they brought me back home. Then I started writing everything down inside you. Shit, I have just looked at the time, and I'm shocked to note I have been writing for over eight hours. It is now 1am.

I'm just thinking about some of the factors that have affected my life over the last three days. If this was to ever correctly change my life, I have to accept that I am prone to breakdowns like everyone else.

I have problems, and I can't just push the issues aside forever. I told Sara in our final conversation, "Pushing a problem away is good. As long as you only put it off for a little while. You can't try to hide from it forever." I should listen to my own words.

This life I will have now has to account for my inner self. It has to account for whom I really am. It has to account for the fact that I am a woman inside, and I can't deny that or try and box it away.

For me, I can not be genderless! That isn't who I am. I have to be one or the other. I now know that inside I am female. Even though I am not a typical female, my biological makeup doesn't match the 'normal' female physique. Neither the less, I am female. I feel that my life was created for womanhood, for I am a WOMAN.

Now all I have to do is live with it, deal with it, and work with it. The most significant transformation I shall ever undertake. But, Diary, it is one I know now that I am destined to take.

>End of Journey Entry.