You’re a guy, right?
Hm? Me? I mean, yeah? Can’t you tell?
No.
No..? What do you mean, no?
You don’t act like them.
Like who?
You know who.
You’re not a guy.
But I am a guy,
well, i’m supposed to be.
but you look like a girl?
a girl..?
yeah, you look at me in that way?
like what?
like i’m fragile,
not real.
i don’t feel like a guy.
you—don’t?
No,
not here,
not there,
not with them,
not without them,
they’ll always avoid me.
they’ll never talk to you?
never.
you’re too… soft.
like a girl?
maybe,
maybe you are a girl.
you’re too… me.
and that’s scary?
why is it scary to them,
to… me?
You try to be one of them.
I do, i do,
and I want to be, but—
but what?
b-but—
it doesn’t work?
you regress?
you think you’re actually good enough?
good enough to be with them?
you’ll always just be an observer,
someone who watches,
someone who doesn’t act,
someone who’ll always be… me.
me?
i want to be like them.
i want to be one of them.
but you’re right,
i’ll always be you.
i’m jealous.
i hate you,
i hate them,
i hate myself,
why am i like this,
why did it turn out like this?
this isn’t fair.
it’s so easy for them,
they talk, they tease, they dare.
a joke, a shove, a laugh, a nod,
and suddenly they’re…
they’re a team.
and i watch.
i watch as others fit in,
but i’m stuck.
stuck with the girls,
the girls ***** friends with them too,
and i envy.
i envy their connection,
not just with them,
but with each other.
i’ll always just be you.
stuck.
static.
unchanging.
jealous.
but i don’t want to be you.
i want to change,
my laugh, my gestures, my voice,
everything.
and become less… me.
but you’re right,
no matter how hard i try,
i’ll just be me.
and this hard conversation,
this reflection,
shows me,
tells me,
every truth.
so if i’m a guy,
why don’t i act like it?
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 12:33 AM UTC
You’re a guy, right?
Hm? Me? I mean, yeah? Can’t you tell?
No.
No..? What do you mean, no?
You don’t act like them.
Like who?
You know who.
You’re not a guy.
But I am a guy,
well, i’m supposed to be.
but you look like a girl?
a girl..?
yeah, you look at me in that way?
like what?
like i’m fragile,
not real.
i don’t feel like a guy.
you—don’t?
No,
not here,
not there,
not with them,
not without them,
they’ll always avoid me.
they’ll never talk to you?
never.
you’re too… soft.
like a girl?
maybe,
maybe you are a girl.
you’re too… me.
and that’s scary?
why is it scary to them,
to… me?
You try to be one of them.
I do, i do,
and I want to be, but—
but what?
b-but—
it doesn’t work?
you regress?
you think you’re actually good enough?
good enough to be with them?
you’ll always just be an observer,
someone who watches,
someone who doesn’t act,
someone who’ll always be… me.
me?
i want to be like them.
i want to be one of them.
but you’re right,
i’ll always be you.
i’m jealous.
i hate you,
i hate them,
i hate myself,
why am i like this,
why did it turn out like this?
this isn’t fair.
it’s so easy for them,
they talk, they tease, they dare.
a joke, a shove, a laugh, a nod,
and suddenly they’re…
they’re a team.
and i watch.
i watch as others fit in,
but i’m stuck.
stuck with the girls,
the girls ***** friends with them too,
and i envy.
i envy their connection,
not just with them,
but with each other.
i’ll always just be you.
stuck.
static.
unchanging.
jealous.
but i don’t want to be you.
i want to change,
my laugh, my gestures, my voice,
everything.
and become less… me.
but you’re right,
no matter how hard i try,
i’ll just be me.
and this hard conversation,
this reflection,
shows me,
tells me,
every truth.
so if i’m a guy,
why don’t i act like it?
