I am well acquainted with the depths of despair; that place where words hurt in every way and never more than when they give the faintest glimmer of the only thing that could possibly be worse than despair: Hope. Hope makes you drag yourself through the hell you’re trapped in when you’re so broken it’s a miracle you...

I do not often get comments on my blog; if I exclude the pingbacks, spam and my own replies, I’ve received twenty-two comments from ten different individuals since I started the eye of paradox two years ago. Four of those people have identified themselves as transgendered, and like every transgendered person I’ve...

A number of my posts, particularly the ones dealing with transgender issues in my life, have been written on a long, dark night of the soul. It can be difficult to come back and read what I’ve posted and resist the urge to delete what I’ve written, because of how dark they are. I have moments when I think, if ever a...

On April 27, 2008 at 12:36 am, I began a post—this post, actually—but got no further than the title. I don’t know if that was because that title summed up my feelings so well that there was no point to writing any further about what was on my mind. Yesterday, those words came back to me at the conclusion of A Glimpse...

I have pointed out before that my struggle with gender dysphoria prompted me to search in all directions for a solution to being born in the wrong body, and the determination with which I pursued that goal in spite of all doubts and discouragements—even attempts to accept things the way they were, adapting to and...

There is more to this, to existing, than meets the eye. It is its own prerequisite and it hurts think about why or how. The only thing that hurts more is trying to make sense not existing. But, given our circumstances, we can’t really afford to take it for granted. By a certain age, we know that death awaits, but what...