metamorphose

10th Nov, 2025

today i got the bus home, and overshot where i was meant to get off by two stops. this meant i spent about 15 minutes walking back, and i spent it thinking about some stuff.

i like exploring hypotheticals, metaphors, what-ifs. the world is made of poetry to me. it doesn't always make sense. i don't need it to, for the most part. i spend a lot of time fantasising and daydreaming about things that will never have any practical application. thoughts can be art, and art is for its own sake.

today i was thinking about gender, and bodies, and identity.

i waved a goodbye to the bus driver as i stepped off, and shouted a 'thank you!'. my voice caught me off-guard. it came out low and tired. i'd meant it to be far lighter.

this is happening a lot recently. my internal model of self hasn't been matching up with reality.

the way i feel about my voice is a fairly unique case. it comes in many different flavours. when i am tired, as i was today, it is lower, deeper, rougher. when i have the energy, or the reason, i can make it higher, more femme, cutesy. not as much as i'd sometimes like, but much more than it used to be.

here's the interesting thing though.

some days, i force myself into that femme sound as much as i can, disgusted by the masculinity of my normal vocal range. regardless of how i try, i can never quite get it sounding right. i always have a note of roughness i can't get rid of.

...other days, it's somehow the opposite. i catch myself speaking in a way that's floaty and feminine, and immediately i drop myself back into my normal range. it feels fake, unecessary, dishonest for me to do anything else. i feel confident in the roughness and loudness, and comfortable that the people around me know who i am regardless.

i know that I'm strongly genderfluid; this isn't a secret or a surprise. even the fluidity itself fluctuates. sometimes i am definitively feminine, but the exact expression of it might vary quite dramatically. other times i feel comfortable in androgeny. sometimes i can't stand anything other than androgeny. very very rarely, i'll even crave a certain type of masculinity.

i have always wondered how much of it is cope. perhaps i wouldn't be fluid at all, in the correct body.

'the correct body'. what does that mean? i wonder if i have finally figured it out today.

as i was walking, i considered the way my voice fluctates, and how my feelings about it do the same. i started daydreaming. i took this thought to its illogical extreme.

how would i feel if my entire body fluctated the way my voice does?

one day i might wake up in a body thats short, femme, modest, the kind of thing i have always thought i'd be most comfortable in. the next day, i am 6"3, hairy, masculine, muscled. the next, i am blonde, conventionally attractive in every way, rampantly bisexual. then the equal opposite; small, androgenous, a little bit wild, intensely asexual.

masculine. feminine. both. neither. conventionally attractive. mundane. blatantly queer. bulky. petite. smooth. blemished. predictable. unique. anything goes. the pieces don't have to match. every day, i could wake up looking like anything.

...i realise something interesting.

i'm pretty sure this existence would be a special kind of hell for a lot of people i know, trans or cis. so many of us have spent years, lifetimes, sculpting the body that we want to exist in. not everyone reaches their ideal, but many get close. many others don't, but still they exercise the control that they can, and thats better than nothing.

i think most of them would hate the idea of waking up in a body they have no control over. most of my transfemme friends would loathe the idea of that gamble: sure, you might wake up some days in a body thats gorgeous and fuckable and cute and all the other things we dream about being. but at the cost of sometimes being thrust into a body thats dramatically masculine, a full beard and sweat and muscles in all the wrong places and no softness to speak of? hmmm.

...but i think i'd love it. i would roll those dice.

something else i've been realising recently is that for all my fluidity, i never seem to have days where i'm truly at peace with my body as it is. i get close on occasion, able to look past the things i regret and dislike about myself, and be proud of what i do have. i enjoy the way my body moves, the grace it has, the scars it's survived and the things it represents.

but also... it's hairy in all the wrong places, and smooth where i dont want it to be. my nose is far too big, and the wrong shape. my hair is boring. my wrists are concerningly thin. i am covered in acne scars that remind me of nothing more than a dessicated corpse. i am wrinkled and pockmarked and creased. hormones don't seem to work on me the way they should. my knees bend inwards at the wrong angle. my teeth keep moving around when im not looking. my ears are lopsided and overextruded.

...i like my eyes, though. i think that in this fantastical reality where my body changes every day, my eyes would always stay the same. perhaps thats how people would recognise me.

most of those things i don't like about my body don't really make sense.

for one thing, a lot of them have nothing to do with gender - even though i generalise and say that dysphoria is the reason they bother me.

more importantly, many of them only bother me because they're me.

i was sitting with a friend recently, someone who is wonderfully and gracefully feminine. she keeps her legs shaved perfectly smooth almost all the time. we were having sex - or were about to, or had just finished, i don't remember - and i was vaguely self-conscious about how i was hairy and she was not. for a moment, i pictured that my legs were hers, and she was the one with curly fuzz up the sides of her thighs and coarse dark hair coating her calves.

she was still beautiful. maybe paradoxically even moreso, because i couldn't picture her existing like that with anything less than absolute confidence about it, and that confidence would be breathtaking (as it so often already is).

so... why not me? why am i so off-put when i am in this body, if i would find it endearing and sexy on any one of my friends?

i think it is because i am trapped in it. i think it is because i am forced by a society to exert control over it. i think i have always craved variety, and to be stuck in this one form is antithetical to that. i think it is because i would rather let my body exist in whatever state it wants to, and my delusions of a socially-appropriate gender identity won't allow that.

but i wouldn't have those problems if the body i was in changed every single day. no time to exert control over it. no time for my internal sense of gender to get attached to it. i'd be unmoored from those expectations.

i'm pretty sure i would still strongly be a girl. probably even moreso than i already am, in this hypothetically-feminine body i live in.

at the same time, i don't think i'd feel the need to hide my masculinity nearly as much as i currently do.

on days where i woke up in a typically feminine body, i could go out and proclaim myself a woman, and nobody would think to challenge that.

on days where i woke up huge and hairy and masc, the assertion would be so absurd that i wouldn't care if people challenged it. after all, my body has no bearing on my gender. it'll be something else tomorrow, but i'll still be the same.

i think being huge and hairy and masc would even be fun, if i didn't have to do it all the time. likewise, i think i would enjoy occasionally being voraciously and femininely sexual (who wouldn't? well-), but i wouldn't want to be that all the time either.

i would be comfortably happy on the days that i woke up small and modest and mundane. i would be comfortably happy on the days i woke up wildly androgenous. i would be comfortably happy on the days i woke up as whatever you picture when i say the word ugly, because it wouldn't define me.

it doesn't, shouldn't define anyone. but for some reason, my subconscious insists that i must define myself by this body i'm bound to.

... ...

i don't know what to do about all this. realistically, nothing. my ideal magically metamorphosing body is nothing more than a daydream and a metaphor.

but it's been an interesting realisation to have.

i think an important part of the ideal in this daydream is that i have no control over it. if i did, if i were able to consciously control how i looked each time i woke up, i would spend every moment analysing and assessing and agonising over the best choices.

what do i actually want to look like? what will the world find most attractive? what will my friends find most attractive? hell, should i even lean into that? there's a thousand-thousand moral and ethical questions there that i dont wanna even scratch the surface of. i think i would be happier for a time, and then i would lose myself even worse than i already have.

but a body that changes entirely without input? something i could truly relinquish control over, seperate my sense of self from, and exist in with curiosity and joy?

that would make me happy, i think.

but... that begs a certain question, doesn't it?

i already live in a body that's mostly beyond my control. sure, it's in a fairly static way, not the wonderful dynamic wishful thinking of this daydream. but surely i could seperate my psyche from it anyway, if i really wanted to.

and i do try. but if it were that easy, i think we'd all do it.

i don't know.

it's been an interesting way to entertain myself for an evening, either way. and if i'm lucky, it might be some sort of step towards self-acceptance.

or it's just a daydream. one that probably doesn't make nearly as much sense to everyone else as i'm hoping it will, but that's often the case with my metaphors. i wrote it for myself, mostly - i think i'll have fun reading this back in a week or so, and seeing how much of it i still resonate with.

it doesn't matter in the end. gender is a cunt. sex is something you do with your teeth. if you're reading this, your body is as gorgeous as you let it be.

i dunno how to end blog posts lmao
awawawa 💚💚